


101 Ways To Find A Soulmate

by trulywicked



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Blind Tobirama, Butsuma's A+ Parenting, Child Abuse, Fluff, Insecure Tobirama, Leather Trousers, M/M, Madara Is A Sexy Bastard, Mild Angst, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Punk Tobirama, Senju Tobirama Needs a Hug, Soul Seeds, Tobirama Whump, Uchiha Have A Danger Kink, do not copy to other sites, no beta we die like men, soul wings, wing fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-05
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-01-23 16:29:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 61,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21323215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trulywicked/pseuds/trulywicked
Summary: A collection of soulmate stories.
Relationships: Hatake Sakumo/Orochimaru, Senju Hashirama/Uchiha Izuna/Uzumaki Mito, Senju Tobirama/Uchiha Madara, Senju Touka/Uchiha Izuna
Comments: 604
Kudos: 1984





	1. MadaTobi - The first thing your soulmate says to you

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Soulmate Story Collection](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10512390) by [raendown](https://archiveofourown.org/users/raendown/pseuds/raendown). 

He'd been unwanted from practically his first breath. Too pale, too fragile, too small, too early, too  _ sensitive  _ to everything. 

As he'd grown and his intellect and sensor abilities had far eclipsed that of any child and many adults in the clan, he'd been despised even more. Too difficult to catch off guard for something as simple as a dodging game, too smart, too quick with his words, too easily frustrated when others didn't understand the complicated concepts that came as easily as breathing to him. Even his beloved brothers had often sought to escape him for peace from the radical ideas that spun in his brain. So no, he'd never been wanted.

The words that carved across his shoulder had only driven home the point. 

It had given him impetus to grow stronger. If he was to be disdained then by the gods he would give people  _ reason _ for it beyond his appearance and intelligence, neither of which he could change.

His own clan had called him Demon from birth and so a demon he'd become.

He used his mind and talent for learning to absorb anything anyone was willing to teach him like a sponge. He took advantage of his father's ruthless goals to beat weakness out of his sons to both forge him into a weapon and draw all the attention to him so that his brothers could have room to breathe. He used the curiosity that beat in his blood to discover new things, to create new techniques, to master things no other in their clan had attempted.

He killed off as much of the compassion he held for outsiders as he could and became renowned for the blood he spilled on the battlefield. He honed his natural sensing abilities to such a fine point that he could diagnose illnesses and hidden injury within bodies and pick up emotions from miles away. He learned to mimic and improve on the healing that his eldest brother did so naturally so that on the battlefield it appeared as though no one could injure him. Off the battlefield it allowed him to be useful to the injured of his clan.

And when his overly optimistic, kindhearted big brother that still cared despite the demon he'd become had began to whisper of hopes for peace and a village? He turned part of his incredible mind to drafting treaties, creating infrastructure and laws. If peace was what his brother wanted, what the single soul who saw something  _ good _ in him wished, he would do all he could to see that it would succeed should peace ever come.

If he indulged the well shielded part of his heart that whispered its own wishes by dreaming up an orphanage and academy for the village his brother dreamed of? Well, no one knew about that but him.

It took the death of his father, years still on the battlefield, and an act of mercy on his part that he was still baffled by for that peace to begin to grow.

Healing Uchiha Izuna of the wound he’d inflicted on the irritating snot had been the catalyst to launching his brother’s dream into reality. 

Even the most stubborn Uchiha could not claim the offer of peace was false when The White Demon chose to heal his long time opponent rather than leave him to die and turn to slaughtering the others around them.

Though the most stubborn Uchiha certainly tried and shocked Tobirama to the core.

Madara hit his knees to scoop Izuna into a hard, relieved hug. Tobirama caught sight of a vicious slash that had gotten past his guard and armor and reached out automatically with a glowing hand, mind still on healing.

His hand was slapped away with a snarled, “I don’t want a monster like you anywhere  _ near _ me.”

The words carved into his shoulder began to burn as they were spoken for the first time and Tobirama felt like he’d just been sucker punched in the gut.

His soul words. The ones that had branded and haunted him all his life. Uchiha Madara had said them, the first thing he’d ever said to Tobirama specifically, and they were responding, burning to receive a response.

He didn’t register Hashirama pushing past him, wailing at Madara to let him heal his injuries and for peace between them, too stunned by the knowledge that his soulmate was  _ Uchiha  _ Fucking  _ Madara _ .

His soul words burned and for some unfathomable reason, it  _ hurt _ to hear those words at long last.

* * *

He said nothing about it. 

He went home after Madara and Hashirama had arranged for the first of many treaty meetings, bathed away the sweat, dirt, and blood, applied an ice pack to his burning shoulder, and held in the pain, physical and emotional.

He’d always known that his soulmate wouldn’t want him when they met. He was only now realizing that he’d held out hopes that he could overcome the first impression and change that opinion. But with Uchiha Madara as his soulmate...

There would be no changing that opinion. Uchiha Madara would not accept a soulmate who had the blood of his clan on his hands. It could even destroy the possibility of peace if he reacted badly. It would be better for all concerned if the man never knew just what Tobirama was to him.

So Tobirama wouldn’t allow him to discover it.

No matter what, he would ignore the burning of his shoulder, hold his tongue, and never speak directly to Madara.

* * *

He was more successful at not talking to his soulmate than he’d expected. It took a solid year past the creation and naming of Konoha for Madara to notice.

Of course once he noticed that Tobirama never spoke directly to him, he kicked up a fuss about it. Loudly. 

He looked up from the gloved hands that had just slammed down on his desk, to meet furious black eyes. One slim white brow rose in question and he watched as Madara’s lips peeled back in a furious snarl.

“I want to know where you think you get off not talking to me, Senju.” Madara’s neck was red with temper, his fingers curling on the paperwork he’d slammed his hands down on, and he looked ready to burn off that arrogant eyebrow.

Tobirama just rolled his eyes, and oh wasn’t that growl interesting, and looked back down at the document he’d been proofreading to continue marking through atrocious grammar.

“Answer me you arrogant bastard!” Madara actually shoved the desk and when that didn’t elicit any response but an icy cold glare, he reached out and snatched the brush from Tobirama’s hand.

His head jerked up and his own temper began to simmer when he saw the smirk Madara was wearing. He narrowed his eyes in a look that promised severe pain.

“Is there something you want, Senju?” Madara flipped the brush around in his fingers in a blatant taunt.

Tobirama made a faint twitch and his chakra began to build as he fought the urge to both curse Madara out and slam him out the window with a water dragon. Why did the aggravating ass have to notice his silence and suddenly take exception to it? 

Things had been fine. More than fine up until now. He’d been able to keep from revealing that he was Madara’s soulmate while working in the same office. The same  _ peaceful _ office that afforded him the chance to discover more about who Uchiha Madara was beneath the blustering temper and dangerous warrior. 

What he’d found was a man who devoted himself to those under his responsibility, gave freely of himself to the weak and vulnerable in his clan, fiercely protected what was his, had a wicked tongue with a sense of humor to match. Madara put all of himself into whatever endeavor he undertook and lived with a passion that burned bright enough to blind and Tobirama had fallen hard for his soulmate.

He did not appreciate his pining being interrupted by Madara suddenly deciding to notice his silence and uncover the reason for it.

Keeping his eyes on Madara’s, he opened a desk drawer and pulled out a new brush. He smirked at the way Madara’s expression darkened and the way his chakra lit up, the already burning embers flaring into flame with the temper.

He held the smirk as he felt Hashirama’s panicked rush down the hall and then burst in.

“Madara what’s wro- what’s going on?” 

“Apparently, Anija, your friend finds a quiet working environment objectionable.”

Madara’s fingers clenched on the brush so hard it cracked in half. “What I find  _ objectionable _ is the fact that you don’t speak to me!”

“What? Of course Tobi speaks to you.” Hashirama fluttered at Madara’s shoulder, worried at the sudden tension in the room.

“No. He talks around me, speaks to whoever else is in the room, or out the window to himself but never to me.”

Tobirama saw the minute Hashirama realized Madara was right and the confused, concerned expression that suffused his face gave Tobirama a very bad feeling. “Anija, don’t-”

“You’re right. Tobirama,” the pitiful puppy eyes of doom were turned full force on Hashirama’s brother, “why would you cause trouble like this?”

“I am not causing  _ trouble _ , Anija.” Tobirama set his back up brush down, his jaw tight. “It has been over a year since our clans made peace and it has never been a problem.”

“But it’s a problem  _ now _ .” Hashirama put his hands on his hips. “Otouto, you should apologize to Madara.”

“Apologize? Have you lost your mind? The only reason this a problem now is because he suddenly noticed something that hasn’t caused so much as a ripple in over a year and took exception to it!” Tobirama slowly stood, hands braced on his desk. “He’s  _ your _ friend, Hashirama, I am not required to make nice with him though it was pleasant enough before he decided to let some bug crawl up his ass! I am not apologizing to him for  _ his _ unreasonable behavior!”

“Unreasonable?! You arrogant little shit, say that to  _ me _ . Stop hiding behind other people like a coward. Aren’t you supposed to be The White Demon? Since when is a demon  _ afraid _ of talking to someone?” Madara roared, pushing into Tobirama’s face, the flush of anger crawling up from his neck into his face now. “Show some spine and tell me how you feel about me to my  _ face _ .”

The only warning Madara had was the faint narrowing of furious red eyes and then he was being blown back by a water dragon, slammed against the wall by an unstoppable force of several hundred gallons of water.

But he recovered quickly enough and was responding with a katon jutsu, forcing Hashirama to yelp and take cover as Tobirama dodged, cursing as the paperwork went up in flames. Another water jutsu doused them and then he was ducking to avoid a punch. 

He swept a leg out, aiming to knock Madara off his feet, and growled when it was avoided and the back of his sleeveless yukata was grabbed. He slashed out with a kunai, forcing Madara to release the hold, and planted his foot in the bastard’s gut, knocking him back a pace.

Before either of them could make another move, the building shook and Hashirama roared out, “Enough!” Two thick branches sprouted from the walls and wrapped around Madara and Tobirama.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into the two of you.” Hashirama gave them both a disappointed glare more suited to a mother scolding her children. “But you’re staying here until you work it out. I’ll be back to check on you at sundown.”

“Anija, don’t!” Tobirama cursed a blue streak when the office turned into a smooth wooden cube holding both him and Madara without any but a lantern for light inside. He  _ could _ use the hiraishin to leave but it wouldn’t be worth Hashirama’s disappointment. Nor Mito’s wrath over that disappointment.

He squirmed out of the branch and moved to sit against one wall of the cube, head leaning back against it. “Damnit Anjia.”

“We could have avoided this if you’d just talk to me.”

Tobirama flipped Madara off.

“Well at least that’s some direct communication.” Madara crossed his arms and glared down at Tobirama. “Why don’t you talk to me? Don’t roll your fucking eyes! Just answer me. It’s that simple. Tell me what the hell I did to offend your icy ass so much you never talk to me and I’ll either apologize or tell you to get the fuck over yourself and we’ll move on.”

He just snorted, closing his eyes to better ignore Madara. He reached out with his senses to feel who was near them. He wasn’t surprised to feel his brother hovering outside their little prison, mother hen that he was.

He listened to Madara making demands for him to talk, insulting him to prompt something more than a huff or snort, and kicking the wood of the cube to threaten Hashirama with an ass kicking when he got out.

“Why are you so damned  _ aggravating  _ Senju?!” 

He heard Madara start pacing in front of him and could perfectly imagine his aggrieved expression. 

“I thought our clans were past this. Hell, I know you and Izuna are friends now and don’t think I haven’t noticed just how  _ gleeful _ you are when the elders try and send a shit proposal through and you get to rip it to pieces and pass those to me to torch so they lose more of their power.”

That got his eyes to fly open. He hadn’t thought he was that obvious.

“The kids are full of stories about playing in your damned yard with the Senju children and how you make certain they all play fair and sneak them sweets, you fucking softy. You’ve been training our healers in your spare time, spare time I suspect you’re breaking natural laws to find, and gave them a technique to heal Sharingan damage to the optic nerves. How the hell is it that you like my clan so much but hate  _ me _ to the point you refuse to  _ speak _ to me, Tobirama?”

His breath hitched. He couldn’t help it. He’d never heard his given name from Madara before. It had always been ‘Senju’ or ‘The White Demon’ or other unflattering terms. 

Of course the hitch caught Madara’s attention and Tobirama found himself being regarded by dark eyes that softened from the dark temper and frustration that had been bubbling in them.

“Tobirama.” It was drawn out in a testing, almost tasting manner and Madara’s eyes sharpened slightly at the way Tobirama crossed his arms and looked away. “Is that it? Do I just need to call you by name?” Silence stretched. “That’s a no then but it’s a start isn’t it Tobirama.” 

He twitched, refusing to look at Madara. The man’s voice had softened to a purr that was wreaking havoc on his senses. It was almost a verbal caress and made him want to shiver. 

“I suppose it’s insulting to have kept calling you nothing but Senju,” there was a pause, “or a demon. Ah, there it is.”

Tobirama mentally cursed the way he’d reacted to that, the slightest twitch but enough for an Uchiha set on examining him like a bug under glass. He was giving serious thought to risking his brother’s disappointment and Mito’s fury.

There was a longer silence before Madara sucked in a sharp breath. “I called you a monster that last battle when you tried to heal me.”

He flinched and held a hand out in a stop gesture.

Madara cursed softly. “That’s it. You saved my brother even though you’d been fully in your rights to strike him down to survive and tried to help me and I lashed out. I know you understand the fear of almost losing a brother, Tobirama, I was lashing out with adrenaline and that fear. I don’t mind my words when I lash out, I don’t think of how I might be hurting others when I’m riding that fire, it’s a flaw of passion I’ve never managed to overcome.”

Tobirama realized he wasn’t going to get out of this. He wouldn’t get away without somehow revealing the truth. Madara would keep pushing, keep picking at it until he came up with the right answer. 

He looked at Madara and felt his heart twist at the soft way he was looking at him. He wanted to tell Madara not to look at him like that, wanted to beg him to leave it alone, wanted to flee but something told him that even if he accepted the consequences from Hashirama and Mito he wouldn’t get away from Madara’s determination to find the right answer.

He took a deep breath, making a choice to end this in a kind way. “I admire your passion, it’s no flaw.”

Madara gasped and clutched his arm, shoving up the sleeve to expose his soul words. The words Tobirama had just spoken. Dark eyes, wide with shock looked into weary red. His voice was rough when he spoke, “Where? Show me.”

Tobirama sighed and slipped his yukata off his shoulder. It no longer burned but the inflammation would linger due to the length of time he’d stayed silent, leaving the black words surrounded by redness as he exposed the words.

A gloved hand reached out and softly traced white skin, avoiding the inflammation as Madara read the words he’d damned his soulmate with.

“Tobirama,” there was sorrow in the single word and then Madara stunned him for the second time by bending in close and brushing lips that should not be so soft against the ugly words that carved into Tobirama’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry this was what you carried all your life.”

“Why are you  _ apologizing _ ?” He was confused and astonished and didn’t have the slightest idea how to handle this.

“Because I branded you with hateful words! What kind of person wants their soulmate wearing that?!”

“The kind who lost clan at their soulmates hands? Just get it over with Madara. I don’t expect-”

“Shut up,” it was a snarl as realization dawned in Madara’s eyes. “That’s why you never spoke to me. You expected me to  _ reject _ you even knowing you’re my soulmate.”

“It was a logical expectation.”

“Logical my ass! For a genius you’re a fucking  _ moron _ .”

“Oh fuck you.”

“Anytime you want, I’m up for it.” Madara slid his hand up to the back of Tobirama’s neck and gripped there gently. “Just so we’re clear, I’m not rejecting you. In fact once we’re in a more private setting I’ll tell you how I realized you weren’t talking to me. Or you can ask Izuna about my ‘offensive pining’ the next time you see him. You’re my  _ soulmate _ Senju Tobirama and I’m not letting you get away.”

Madara kissed him, mouth soft and coaxing a response beyond the surprise, and Tobirama made a soft, hopeful sound before he melted into the kiss. His hands found the wild mass of Madara’s hair, gripping gently as they learned the taste and texture of each others’ mouth. 

Then there was a squeal outside their wooden prison and Tobirama broke the kiss to glare as the wall behind him was taken down and let him and Madara see his brother giddily clapping.

“You’re  _ soulmates _ ! This is wonderful! My sweet little brother and my best friend!”

Tobirama saw Hashirama make the lunge and disappeared to his lab using Hiraishin. He’d let Madara deal with his overenthusiastic brother and compose himself in the meantime. Then he’d see if Madara had meant what he’d said enough to come hunt him down.

He hoped so.


	2. MadaTobi - whatever you write on your skin appears on your soulmate

The day he finally found his errant soulmate, Madara was going to throttle them. Just to unconsciousness, he wouldn’t  _ kill _ them, but there would be throttling. And yelling. And demands for an explanation for over twenty years of silence. 

He had been sending to his soulmate since he was old enough to hold a pen or brush. When he’d been a barely coordinated toddler he’d only made vague splotches according to his mother but eventually he’d graduated to drawing and writing and rarely had a day passed in his life where he hadn’t sent something to his soulmate. He was faithful with it, offering a devotion only his clan and perhaps Hashirama had also earned.

Yet not once had the stubborn, intractable,  _ annoyingly _ silent person fate had hooked him to ever  _ responded _ .

He knew they existed, knew they lived still, even knew they were a shinobi but only by chance did he know that. He knew from what he could gather were spills or mishaps with writing implements. Splotches and swipes bloomed on his skin from time to time. And he knew they were a shinobi because the frustrating little  _ shit _ was forever painting seals on themselves or getting splattered with blood.

But never was anything purposefully sent to him, as if his soulmate was  _ ignoring _ him and that simply would  _ not _ stand. He’d long ago stopped sending pleading entreaties or agitated demands and moved on to threats. Those didn’t work either but he was at a loss on what he could do to convince his soulmate to communicate with him. 

After another night of silence, after having painted a rather nice field of flowers that had expressed his longing, frustration, and pleading without words, he stomped into the kitchen he shared with his brother in an absolutely  _ foul _ temper.

Izuna took one look at him and burst into wild laughter, hands slapping down onto the table to keep him from face planting into his breakfast as he very nearly collapsed with hilarity. Even the nigh murderous glare from Madara couldn’t kill the laughter.

Madara growled and went to the tea pot, pouring a cup to bolt down before he killed his only remaining brother due to his morning mood. He leaned against the counter and kept glaring at Izuna as he sipped the mind clearing brew. As the cackling subsided into the occasional giggle, he took a deep drink and spoke in his most aggrieved tone, “If you’re done with your fit, would you care to enlighten me as to what set you off?”

Izuna’s shoulders shook as another giggle escaped him but he managed to speak in a strained voice, clearly fighting more laughter. “You have something on your face, Aniki.”

“My face?” He ran a hand over his face, prompting another series of cackling from Izuna. Then he reached into a nearby drawer where they kept some emergency blades and pulled out one without the black coating that was heat seared into kunai for stealth purposes.

Holding the reflective knife up as a mirror, he choked when he saw that there was smudged writing  _ on his damned face _ ! “What the hell!” He exploded. “I paint a field of flowers and this is what I get? Unintelligible squiggles on my fucking face?! I’m going to  _ strangle _ them within an inch of their life when I finally find the little shit!”

His rant only made Izuna cackle again, dropping back onto the floor to curl up and hold his stomach as he laughed his little ass off.

Madara stomped and ranted and slammed things around, turning the air blue with his language. It was just  _ insulting _ for his soulmate to do this.

Eventually Izuna managed to calm down and sit up, grinning unrepentantly. “It looks like your soulmate probably fell asleep over half dried paperwork or a letter so I don’t think it’s on purpose.”

“That’s even worse! I’ve done everything but send my name and an offer of marriage.” Madara dropped down at the table at last, groaning in despair. “I don’t understand why my soulmate seems to hate me so much that they won’t even send me a message saying that they don’t believe in soulmate connections. Did I send something offensive when I was young?”

Izuna sobered, sympathy for his brother covering his face. “I don’t know, Aniki but perhaps you should stop sending things. Perhaps it might spur them to concern?”

Madara shook his head. “No, I couldn’t do that. I want to throttle them for putting me through this but I don’t want to frighten them into believing I’m injured or worse. I just don’t know what else to do that I haven’t yet done.”

“Hmm.” Izuna studied his brother’s face with the smudged writing. He thought he caught a backwards word about theory and failing here and there but couldn’t be sure. But the writing plastered on his brother’s face gave him an idea. “What if you send on a part of the body that  _ can’t _ be ignored? You always send from an arm, a place that's easily covered by clothes. Why not use your  _ face _ instead? There’s no possible way for them to get away with ignoring it on their face because others will comment on it.”

Madara blinked then a slow, wicked grin spread across his lips. “That, Otouto, is a stroke of genius.”

“I do try. Wait til the writing from them is gone, they’re probably still asleep.”

Madara nodded and already started planning out what he wanted to put on his soulmate’s face. He’d start small and subtle.

* * *

“Come in~!” 

The cheerful singsong from inside the Hokage’s office made Tobirama suppress a fond smile for his brother. He didn’t know how anyone managed to be so annoyingly chipper so early in the morning but it appeared to be a talent Hashirama possessed. 

He opened the door and stepped in. “Anija, I have the revisions to the Morino treaty.”

Hashirama’s sigh was hefty enough to ruffle the forest leaves. “More paperwork.”

“It is a side effect of creating a shinobi village, paperwork keeps it running. Get away from the window. The more you procrastinate the more paperwork piles up. Even your best friend understands that.”

“But he’s not here!” Hashirama flailed his arms wide. “He hasn’t come in yet and-” his words cut off with a high, squeaky noise like a dog toy rudely stepped on.

Tobirama flared his senses to locate what might have caught his brother’s attention. He didn’t find anything. “Anija what-”

“Your face!” Hashirama’s robes rustled as he hurried around the desk to his little brother. “Tobira you have flowers on your face!”

“I have what?” Tobirama held still as Hashirama took his happuri off and trailed fingers over his forehead, making a cooing sound, then down his temples to edge faintly down over his cheekbones and along his jaw. 

“Flowers, painted flowers on your face. Your soulmate painted flowers on your face!”

He sucked in a sharp breath. “I have a soulmate?” He’d had the notion that the fates would never saddle anyone with him pounded into his head by his father, had been told by Butsuma that no writing had ever appeared on his skin. To hear that there  _ was _ someone who was meant for him was too good to be true though he knew Hashirama would never lie.

“Oh Tobira,” Hashirama’s voice was mournful and he pulled his brother into a tight hug. “Of course you do! You’re a wonderful person, otouto. And here’s the proof! These flowers are lovely, you have quite the artist for a soulmate. And a poetic soul as well. So many pink camellias for longing and strong desire, crocus which is gladness and a request not to abuse, geraniums offering comfort but they also can mean stupidity, and oh! I suspect your soulmate has been sending to you for some time, otouto. There’s a little sprig of goosefoot signifying insult. I bet they think you’ve been ignoring them.”

Tobirama went cold at that and very nearly dove for Hashirama’s desk, eschewing his dignity to get to his brother’s calligraphy brush. There was no telling how long the flowers had been on his face nor how long they’d stay. He had to respond while his soulmate might be paying attention. He had to let them know he hadn’t been ignoring them.

His fingers closed on the brush handle and he shoved up his sleeve, dipped the brush in ink, and using muscle memory he carefully wrote to his soulmate.

**"I’m here. Are you there?"**

“Anija, I need you to watch my arm.” Tobirama knew his voice shook faintly, nerves jumping in his belly. He couldn’t help the jitters. He had a soulmate, one who may have been trying to contact him for years, who thought he’d been  _ ignoring _ them. He was afraid he’d lost his chance.

“Of course, Tobira.” Hashirama moved to wrap an arm across his brother’s shoulders, offering comfort. He hoped Tobirama’s soulmate would be understanding of the situation. If not...well as much as he preferred keeping the peace he would be forced to beat sense into his darling little brother’s soulmate.

It took almost no time at all for more marks to appear on his brother’s arm underneath Tobirama’s question and Hashirama had to chuckle when the reply came fully into view.

**"Fucking finally! I’ve been sending you things every day for years! What took you so damned long?!"**

Tobirama breathed out a slow sigh of relief hearing Hashirama relay the response and wiped away his previous message to reply. 

**"I’m blind. I use chakra sensing to read, write, and navigate but I can’t sense soul writing because it’s in my skin, part of me, and not a separate substance."**

Across the village, inside his kitchen, Madara watched the words bloom on his skin, Izuna peering over his shoulder in fascination. “Well fuck. That explains it.”

“Huh, never thought of that did we? Must be a hell of a sensor to be able to read and write that way.” Izuna oofed when he was elbowed back.

“Private business, brat. Go write your own soulmate.” Madara wiped his arm clean then wrote back.

**"I’m impressed. Sensing to that high level is difficult. I’m glad to know you weren’t just ignoring me. How are you reading my messages now?"**

**"My brother is reading them aloud to me. I thought I had no soulmate until he saw the flowers on my face. I apologize for the long wait and making you feel as though you were unwanted."**

Madara wondered who had let his soulmate think they were alone and how he could murder them.

**"You’re forgiven. I always wrote and painted my arms before, my own brother suggested painting on my face as something that couldn’t be missed. Neither of us had the brains to consider you might not be able to see what I sent!"**

**"It’s understandable. You doubtless ascertained that I am a shinobi and a blind man on a battlefield is a rarity."**

He chuckled at the word choice. Seemed his soulmate might be a formal little thing.

**"More like unheard of. You must be very good."**

**"I am."**

Back in the Hokage’s office, Tobirama huffed at his brother’s yelp about how he should have been modest. “Anija, if my soulmate is indeed my perfect match then false modesty will serve neither of us.”

“But- but what if they think you’re arrogant!”

“I am, somewhat.”

“That’s not a good th-” Hashirama broke off reading the reply.

**"Confident. I like that. I’m also very good. Perhaps once we find each other we should spar and see who is better."**

“Oh never mind, you’re obviously made for each other!” Hashirama huffed before reading the reply to his brother.

Tobirama just laughed. 

**“Absolutely. For now I’m afraid I must see to my duties. Would you be amenable to writing again like this tomorrow morning? The same time as today. Until I can work out a better solution, my brother must be the one to tell me you’ve left me a message and what it is.”**

**“Unless I’m on a mission or captured by an enemy nothing in this world could keep me from writing you tomorrow. See to your work, soulmate. I’ll wash the flowers off so no one laughs at you.”**

**“Appreciated, soulmate.”**

Tobirama set the brush down, waiting for a short time before he wiped his arm clean and tugged his sleeve back down. 

He sat for a few moments before a quiet smile rested on his face. “ _ I _ have a soulmate.”

Hashirama bumped his forehead against his brother’s, beaming widely. “Yes, you do. They’re better be worthy of you or I’ll grab Madara and we’ll whip them into shape for you.”

A perfectly white brow lifted. “And what makes you think I am unable of whipping someone into shape myself if necessary? Speaking of that, get back to work Anija!”

He smirked at his brother’s wail of despair.

* * *

Madara was in a brillant mood, a  _ smiling _ mood, as he walked into his office in Hokage Tower. He’d woken to a message on his arm. One he kept glancing at when he wasn’t in sight of anyone else.

**“I am testing the experiment to help me read your messages myself. Write to me over your left ulna at noon. I should have everything prepared by that time.”**

He was excited at the possibility of having a conversation with his soulmate without needing to rely on a nosy middleman. He wanted to have more private conversations with his soulmate, to at least give them a hint as to his location, but he did not want that shared with what sounded like a blabbermouth brother.

He settled at his desk and started to plow through the paperwork that seemed to multiply almost every time he looked away. He wanted at least half of it done before noon so he could devote his attention to his soulmate.

Was it just him or did he have more paperwork than usual? 

“Hashirama!” He bellowed it and waited with a scowl until his friend came skipping in.

“Good morning! What did you need?” Hashirama tucked his hands into his sleeves, so relieved to have a distraction from his desk.

“Have you been slacking on your paperwork again? There’s more here than there should be.” He narrowed his eyes on his friend.

Hashirama drooped, a dark miasma clouding over him. “You and Tobira are  _ mean _ . I do my job. I just do it slower than you.”

“Hashiramaaaaa.”

“No, I did not slack.” He pouted at Madara. “Tobirama isn’t here today so his paperwork was split between us.”

Madara lost his irritation and smirked. “Your special snowflake catch a cold?”

“Don’t be mean to Tobira.” Hashirama huffed and sat on the corner of Madara’s desk. “He took the day off to work on an experiment. Said it was vital and not to disturb him unless it was life and death. He so rarely takes a day off from the office, I wasn’t going to argue.”

Madara had to admit that was accurate. Tobirama came in almost all day every day. He was always here before Madara arrived and he knew the pedant stayed for hours after Madara and Hashirama both left. “Your brother needs to get a life. Get laid or find his soulmate.”

“He recently began conversing with his soulmate.” Hashirama beamed. “He didn’t always believe he had one. I-”

“Anata,” the smooth voice of Mito came from the doorway, “Tobirama requested I ensure you don’t neglect your work. Leave Madara to his and come make sure your brother doesn’t have a mess to sort out on your desk tomorrow.”

Madara’s smirk widened as Hashirama whined but let his wife pull him out and force him into doing his work.

When noon came around he looked down at his arm, pouting faintly at the previous message having disappeared, and took his brush to the section of his forearm over his ulna.

**“Hello soulmate.”**

He waited and then a thrill went through him when he saw strokes appear on his arm.

**“It worked! Hello soulmate mine.”**

The possessive part of Madara purred at the sight of ‘mine’ from his soulmate. He wiped away the first sentence before writing another.

**“How did you manage this, clever one?”**

**“It’s sealwork. I created a large tag to cover the section of my arm over my ulna. Then it was a matter of finding the proper seals that would first allow your words to become raised impressions of braille on the tag and second give me a tingling sensation to alert me to a new message. It took longer than I would prefer to adjust the alert to an appropriate level.”**

Madara lifted a brow. He’d already learned that his soulmate could be a little reckless with their health.

**“Did you hurt yourself?”**

**“No. The sensation never caused any pain.”**

**“There’s a difference between pain and injury. I’ll be very unhappy if you hurt yourself with this, soulmate.”**

There was a long, long pause that made Madara nearly start tearing his hair out and contemplate throttling again. Gentle throttling.

**“It was a rather intense buzz initially however it was merely uncomfortable and caused me no damage. I am not hurt.”**

**“Good. Keep it that way.”**

**“This was not the conversation I imagined having the first time without a translator.”**

**“Oh? What did you have in mind, clever one?”**

**“Tell me something of yourself. I know you have a brother, are you close?”**

**“Very close. Closer now than before. I almost lost him a couple years ago and it terrified me. I’ve lost brothers before and it tore me apart, if I had lost my last brother I would have been good for nothing but madness.”**

It was perhaps a heavy subject for a first solitary conversation but it felt right. Madara felt his heart soften and ache when he received a reply.

**“I understand. I lost two of my own brothers in war. They were very young. My older brother is the only one left. He is, as you no doubt have realized, obnoxiously cheerful and optimistic and I would do anything to ensure he remains unbent by our world.”**

**“I have one of those, my best friend, and he’s entirely too bright for a mortal man. It makes me want to kick his ass. I imagine there are times your brother makes you want to wring his neck.”**

**“Daily.”**

Madara laughed. He could almost hear the dryness of that single word. 

**“My brother is a smug little troll. He starts shit without even trying and disaster follows him like a mad gaggle of ducklings. His current scheme is to find a way to seduce a woman who could break him in half like a twig. I suspect the only reason she hasn’t done so yet is because she thinks of him like a persistent puppy and she’s not to sort to kick a puppy.”**

**“I will pray for your surroundings to remain unscathed.”**

**“The village is fairly sturdy since it’s full of shinobi.”**

**“A shinobi village?”**

Madara winced at the slip and wondered if he should backpedal. Then more words appeared on his arm.

**“Do you live in Konoha as well?”**

His heart took flight with excitement and hope.

**“Yes. You are a Konoha shinobi?”**

**“I am.”**

**“How long have you been in the village?”**

**“Since its creation.”**

Madara’s mind screeched to a halt. Only Uchiha and Senju had lived in Konoha at the beginning. He  _ knew _ that no one in the Uchiha clan had been blind long enough to miss every single message and mark he’d sent. That meant his soulmate had to be a Senju and as far as he knew there was only  _ one _ Senju with an obnoxiously cheerful brother.

**“TOBIRAMA?!”**

**“You know of me. That is unexpected. Are you displeased?”**

He gaped at the response, absolutely stunned. Tobirama was his soulmate. Tobirama, the man who had nearly killed his little brother then shown the mercy that had allowed Konoha to come into being, the man who had always fought Izuna to a standstill until that fateful day, that man was  _ blind _ .

**“By the eternal flame you ** ** _are_ ** ** strong. I never so much as suspected you couldn’t see.”**

**“You are an Uchiha. No other shinobi uses that particular epithet. An Uchiha with a smug troll of a brother chasing after a strong kunoichi.”**

There was a long,  _ long _ wait during which Madara held his breath. Then a single word in heartbreakingly shaky writing.

**“Madara.”**

Madara shot out of his office before he was aware he was moving. In his mind’s eye he could see the messages exchanged over the past several months, remember reading between the lines to pick up on the fact that Tobirama had not just thought he had no soulmate, he’d thought he would be  _ unwanted _ as a soulmate. He looked down and could still see his name in that shaky hand, a sign of intense emotion so blatant no one could possibly miss it. Not when it came from Tobirama.

He skidded to a stop in front of the door of the laboratory in the Senju compound and wasn’t at all surprised when it opened and Tobirama stood framed in the doorway. Composed and looking as icy as the snowflake he’d called him earlier today but a single glance down at the forearm with the large tag on it and the ink splotches that fell on the tag before his untidy name was written gave away that as a lie.

“Madara.” Tobirama’s voice was cool. “Would you prefer to ign-”

“ _ No! _ ” He saw Tobirama jolt in surprise and invaded his space, moving to press him up against the door. “No, I am not displeased. No, I  _ don’t _ want to ignore this. You’re my soulmate, Tobirama.”

“I am also the man who nearly-”

“Drove me to the heights of frustration because I never received a reply for over twenty years. I’ve waited too long for you to let you slip away. You’re  _ mine _ and I’m not letting you go!” 

Tobirama’s throat worked, swallowing hard as he felt the immense wall of hot chakra that was Madara crowding in on him and heard the fierce honesty in the voice he was used to hearing bellow in anger. “What will Izuna think about this?”

“He’d better think ‘congratulations’ or I’m dropping him into the koi pond until he comes to his senses.” This close Madara could see the fine tics and shifts in Tobirama’s expression that gave away the emotion hidden behind a well maintained mask.

He lifted a hand, stripped a glove off with his teeth, then carefully cupped Tobirama’s cheek, thumb caressing one red stripe, raised like a scar but the color of blood. “These never appeared.”

“I...the soul writing only applies to what is put onto the skin, not under it. Tattoos don’t transfer because the ink is driven under the skin. Scar tissue also tends to block it.” Tobirama couldn’t help but lean into that touch. Madara’s hand was so  _ warm _ and gentle. Hope made his throat thick.

“I see. Too bad. That could have saved us a few years.” Madara reached down with his other hand to catch Tobirama’s arm, smoothing his hand over the tag and ink. “Are  _ you _ displeased that it’s me?”

“No.” Tobirama murmured it, slowly relaxing as he came to accept that he was not going to be rejected. “No, I’m not unhappy that it’s you. The soul writing allowed me to know you beyond the bluster and bad temper, allowed me to see who you are underneath it.”

“And?” Madara’s tone took on a soft teasing quality.

“I like what I learned. I like what I know of you now and I would...would appreciate learning more.” Tobirama felt his face grow hot and recognized the sensation from the times his brother had cooed over his ‘cute blush’ and tried to duck his head to hide the mortifying reaction.

Madara smirked and refused to let Tobirama hide. Instead he stretched up and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. “Likewise. I want to know more of you, Tobirama, and I will say this again as many times as I have to. I am  _ glad _ to have you as my soulmate.”

Tobirama let himself lean forward and drop his head to rest against the fluffy mass of Madara’s hair, relaxing into his presence. He didn’t doubt he’d need reminders but for now he believed Madara’s words and was content in the moment.


	3. MadaTobi - formative events in your soulmate’s life leave marks on your skin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a fan of Tobirama being insecure of his own worth on a personal level and of a little Tobirama whump. That being said, have a **Warning:** For referenced child abuse and neglect.

In retrospect Madara had to admit he really should have realized long before now who the imprints represented.

Some, such as the kuani on the back of his right hand, were annoying generic. Others were all but screaming his soulmate’s identity at him. The blue Oni mask on his right bicep that had appeared the morning after the first official battle with the Senju that had Tobirama participating was especially blatant. The young shinobi, only sixteen at the time, had cut through opponents with such cold ferocity and skill that even his own clan had whispered the word ‘demon’ at his back.

And if that hadn’t been enough of a clue, the day he’d seen Tobirama summon a snow leopard to combat Izuna’s crows should have slapped him in the face with realization. It would forever be embarrassing that he’d never connected the white and gray leopard that sprawled above his navel with Tobirama’s summons.

But no, he’d never realized. Instead it had been an incident on a joint mission where he’d been falling off a cliff thanks to the ambush that had been set to reveal the truth. Tobirama’s hand had whipped out and latched around his left wrist, where the image of two tiny handprints surrounded by red spider lilies sat, and the shock of recognition had zinged up Madara’s arm.

He knew Tobirama had felt it as well. The widening of ruby red eyes had been a dead giveaway. Unfortunately they’d needed to focus on the mission and taking down the idiots who’d ambushed them. 

Madara might have slacked off just a little to get the opportunity to watch Tobirama cut their enemies down. Anyone who’d ever seen Tobirama fight could blame him. At least no one who understood the Uchiha clan could. His entire clan had an affection for lethal beauty and he’d been ignoring Tobirama’s for far too long in an attempt to stay free for his soulmate.

Learning that said soulmate was Tobirama gave him blanket permission to ogle while the other man slaughtered his opponents with a grace and skill few could hope to match. It was delicious.

Sadly, now that they were back in the village, he’d been unable to pin down his soulmate in private. Hashirama or Izuna always appeared out of nowhere to interrupt each time Madara had managed to get a moment with Tobirama and given his soulmate an escape route. Their brothers were uncommonly talented at cockblocking without even trying.

Today however, Madara was determined to corner Tobirama for a conversation he hoped would extend into, at the very least, a date. To that end he’d had Izuna sent on a mission with the terrifying Senju kunoichi his little brother was infatuated with and bribed Mito to keep Hashirama occupied. No other soul in the village would dare risk Madara’s wrath by lingering longer than it took to give them one solid glare.

He waited until he felt Tobirama arrive at the Tower and settle into his office. He wasn’t as skilled a sensor as his soulmate but he came a close second and happily used it to make certain this was set up to work. He waited a moment to be sure Tobirama was well occupied with his work before making his way up the Tower.

Madara kept a tight grip on his control to keep from just running up like a fool and spooking Tobirama away. Instead he moved leisurely through the Tower, pausing by various departments he usually oversaw to check in with them as usual as well as make it clear that only pain and possible maiming awaited anyone who interrupted Tobirama in the next three hours.

He spared a grateful thought to whatever deity had a hand in Tobirama choosing an office that Madara had to walk past to get to his. It made it the simplest thing to keep walking as usual and then turn right into Tobirama’s office without alerting the other sensor. He met the red eyes that looked up in surprise and locked the door behind him, watching them widen fractionally. Madara smiled, a purely predatory thing. ‘Gotcha.’

He slunk toward Tobirama’s desk, preening a little at the way his soulmate’s gaze dropped to watch him move. He pulled his gloves off as he walked, tossing them over his shoulder, then braced bare hands on Tobirama’s desk. As ruby eyes fell to look at the kunai imprint, he leaned down. “You and I have some business to discuss, To-bi-ra-ma,” he purred it out and, oh wasn’t that precious, Tobirama’s ears went pink at the tip. But of course his ever so contained soulmate didn’t give any other sign that he was affected by Madara’s tone.

Tobirama lifted his gaze to Madara’s again. “Do we? I don’t see how we have anything worth discussing, Madara-sama.”

A little flash of temper made Madara flush. What did Tobirama think he was doing, denying their connection?! But as insulting as it was, he swallowed the snarl that wanted to slip out and clamped down on his own control to respond calmly. “Oh? You don’t think the fact that we’re soulmates merits discussion?”

If he hadn’t been watching so closely, he would have missed the quick, sad flicker in ruby eyes. Would have missed the sign of despondent resignation. What was that all about?

“I simply fail to see why it needs a discussion. You now know, you can cease searching for your soulmate and find someone you wish to build a life with instead.” Tobirama’s hand tightened on his brush pen.

Madara just stared for a long, long moment, rearranging what he’d thought would be his obstacles to getting Tobirama to agree to a date, or more, in his head as he took in the tension in the other man. Tension that climbed higher and higher until the pen made a soft creaking noise from the pressure it was being put under. Madara reached out and covered the hand fisting on the pen with his own. “We will revisit the statement that ‘I’ now know, implying that you were aware already, later. First I think we need to talk about the fact that you think I’m not interested in building a life with you.”

“What’s there to talk about? It’s not as though you would have ever looked twice at me if I wasn’t your soulmate.”

Madara eased a hip onto Tobirama’s desk and curled his fingers around Tobirama’s, making the pen drop and maintaining the connection. “You’re wrong about that. I’ve looked a lot more than twice since the war between our clans ended despite my best efforts to ignore it because I had a soulmate waiting.” His thumb stroked over the back of Tobirama’s knuckles. “Do you realize how you look in battle, Tobirama?”

Thin pale lips tightened. “I am aware of the epithet I-”

“No. No, no, no. Not the White Demon nonsense. You. You move like one of your summons, silent and graceful, so fast even the Sharingan can barely follow you. The agile turns and split second changes you make to compensate for the unexpected. You are poetry in motion.” He saw pink begin to creep into Tobirama’s face and gleefully continued. “You can cut down a field of enemy shinobi in a split second and not get so much as a single drop of blood on you. You leave devastation in your wake and then stand bright, shining, and spotless among the remains like some sort of moon god come to sneer down at the unworthy mortals daring to annoy you.”

“W-what? I’m hardly a god. I’m abnormal, unnatural. My coloring is-”

“Gorgeous.” Madara leaned in closer so that his face was close to Tobirama’s. “Absolutely, utterly gorgeous. I realize that the fools that populate the world so thickly have a habit of scorning the unique but I am more than capable of seeing the truth of beauty. How rare and precious is a white fur or skin, Tobirama? How much more do people spend to own something made of white snakeskin or have a pet that has a pelt of snow?”

Tobirama swallowed, hope beginning to stir in his eyes.

“Anyone who has claimed you to be anything but stunning is a small minded, jealous fool declaring sour grapes. They know they can’t afford to so much as come near you and spit venomous lies to make themselves feel better. And before you argue about your eyes,” Madara allowed his Sharingan to form and very nearly purred when Tobirama didn’t look away, “would any Uchiha consider eyes of red anything but a gift from Amaterasu herself? You’re beautiful, deliciously deadly, and so fucking clever it’s humbling.”

“Most people don’t like being humbled,” Tobirama murmured softly, allowing Madara to draw his hand up to his lips. His cheeks went hot with a blush he knew stood out like neon as Madara kissed his fingers.

“Idiots, you really should stop listening to idiots, darling.” Madara smiled, soft and warm. “Your brain is a damned wonder and should be treated with the respect it deserves. Then there’s your heart, all those clever things you do and create are for the betterment and protection of others. Your pet projects of the Academy and Orphanage and the way you allow children to flock to you and climb all over you. You allow the little crumb snatchers to assault your dignity and only laugh in happiness. You are devastating, Tobirama, and I consider myself so fucking fortunate that fate decided to make me yours.”

“You mean all that. You’ve really watched me.” Tobirama felt the tension evaporate. “You really...want me.”

“Want, need, desperately desire, take your pick.” Madara kissed Tobirama’s fingers again.

“I...I knew you were my soulmate not long after the river.” It was a soft confession. “One of my imprints is a Sharingan and shortly after the river it changed.” He eased his hand free of Madara’s hold, the pout that caused making his heart fly, and stripped the triangular gusset gloves from his hands. Then he turned his right hand over to show the imprint. 

Madara inhaled sharply. “My Mangekyou.” His brows drew down, remembering when he’d first awakened his Sharingan. It had been long before the clash by the river. He looked up. “Did your father...”

“He never saw it. I started wearing these gloves when it appeared. If he had seen it, he would have been...displeased.” 

Madara reached out and drew Tobirama’s hand to his mouth, placing a kiss on the imprint, feeling the tingle of imprint touch against his lips. “So you knew the first time you saw my Mangekyou.”

“Yes.” Tobirama couldn’t help himself, he began tracing Madara’s face with a light touch. “That was when I started working on the treaties and village plans. And I...began to research your clan, to learn all I could, hoping. Then after the first battle I joined and Izuna decided he had to be my damned rival...I didn’t think even if we reached the lofty goal of peace you’d be willing to look favorably on a man who endangered your little brother.”

Madara leaned into the ghosting touches. “The war is over, Tobirama, and my little brother is well and alive thanks to your mercy. I wear your life imprinted into my skin and I will not let you get away from me easily. Uchiha are possessive creatures.”

Tobirama laughed softly. “I don’t want to get away, Madara. May I- may I see all your imprints?”

“Mmm, on one condition.” Madara turned his head to kiss Tobirama’s fingertips again.

“And that is?” Tobirama wondered when the touch of Madara’s lips might stop making his breath hitch in his throat.

“You tell me the story behind them.”

“Ah.” Tobirama’s eyes went to the kunai imprint. “They won’t all be pleasant stories.”

“I want to know all of you, to know the sorrows and joys that built you into the man you are. My own stories will not be all happy and I know you, curious clever thing that you are, wish to know them as well.”

“Yes. Yes. Should we go elsewhere?”

“No need. I booted Izuna off on a mission, Mito is doing me the favor of keeping Hashirama busy, and I made it very clear to the tower that short of Konoha being on fire no one is to be knocking on that door and since it’s locked we should be just fine here.” Madara angled his head to nuzzle at the inside of Tobirama’s wrist.

Tobirama hummed. “They probably think you’re throttling me. Or tossing me over the desk for a hate quickie.”

Madara laughed. “Maybe one day, minus the hate.” He held up his left hand, his sleeve falling down his arm to expose the handprints and their lilies. “I can guess about this one. This one changed. At first it was only the two handprints but first one, then the other became surrounded by the Higanbana flowers. Flowers of death. This is your lost brothers.”

“Yes.” Tobirama ghosted his fingertips over the larger handprint. “Kawarama,” then the smaller, “Itama. One day we were training and our father was pushing them too hard, pushing them beyond their limits. Itama was on the edge of lethal chakra exhaustion and Kawarama kept getting hurt trying to support him. I stepped in to take the brunt of father’s temper, to protect them. I swore I would do all I could to protect them that day, no matter what it might cost me.” His fingers trailed over the spider lilies. “But I wasn’t able to protect them, wasn’t anywhere nearby to when they died.”

Madara reeled him in to kiss his forehead. “Not your fault.”

“No. I came to terms with that long ago. It wasn’t my fault but it still hurt and I was unable to publicly mourn.” 

Madara wanted to growl, that was inhuman to be kept from mourning the loss of a loved one, of a brother. Hashirama had spoken of Butsuma’s reaction to tears so he could well imagine why Tobirama hadn’t been allowed to mourn.

Instead of growling, he turned his hand around to show his palm where a cluster of yarrow flowers sat. He had a feeling this would be a kinder tale.

Tobirama smiled softly and touched the yarrow, the tingle in his fingertips welcomed. “One of our clan came home injured in a way none of our medics could heal. I’d been working on healing jutsu for a while by then, the technique was finished and he was dying so I used it. It saved his life and I was given free time to develop more healing jutsu to teach the medics.”

Madara smiled back and slid off the desk and stripped off his clothing until he was down to his undergarments. The blush and hungry expression on Tobirama’s face made him puff his chest out just a little. “What else? There are some I could guess but I was to hear it from you.”

Tobirama laughed softly and got up from his seat to walk around the desk and stand before Madara. He touched the blue Oni mask on Madara’s right bicep. “The day of my first real battle, I heard the whispers but I didn’t take offense. In fact I decided it was perfect to become a demon to protect my family. No one wishes to anger a demon after all.” 

Next he touched the imprint on Madara’s other bicep, a flowering tree with heart shaped boughs. “Hashirama. I don’t really remember but one of the old wet nurses told me that she’d caught him sneaking into the nursery to watch over me and promise that he’d do all he could to look after me.”

“Of course the tree is that idiot.” Madara chuckled.

“This one,” Tobirama touched a sword over the right side of Madara’s ribcage, “was when I mastered kenjutsu well enough that my father couldn’t beat me in it any longer. He had to contact the Uzumaki for another sensei.”

Madara’s grin was savage. “I bet he just loved that.”

“About as much as Hashirama hates sailing.” Tobirama ran his hand over a microscope on Madara’s left hip. “The first time I ran a successful experiment. It was so fascinating, so much fun. I knew I wanted to do it again and again, to find answers and learn more.”

He sobered and lifted the hand with the kunai on the back. He brought the fingers of that hand to the marks on his face, scars that he’d had tattooed as soon as they’d healed enough. “My father was determined to turn me into nothing more than a weapon for his petty grudge. I made the mistake of asking for a break after he began my training. He took a kunai to my face.”

Now Madara did growl and pull Tobirama in close, holding him in a firm, gentle embrace. “I loathe your father, darling.” He almost wished Butsuma was still alive so he could murder the bastard himself.

Tobirama melted into Madara, closing his eyes and letting the heat the other man gave off like a furnace sink into him. “You’re in very good company. Butsuma was not a good father to any of us. I’m not at all certain he was in any way sane, especially not after our mother’s death. I learned that day just how dangerous he was to even his allies and swore I would become stronger than him so I could keep him from hurting my brothers.”

Madara brushed his lips over those marks, softly kissing the long healed wounds as if he could erase them. Fate had known exactly what it was doing when it matched him with this man. As protective and strong of heart as Madara himself was, with an eye more toward family and clan than the wider world. “Perfect, you are perfect.”

“I’m glad you think so.” Tobirama slid a hand between them and rested it on the snow leopard above Madara’s navel. “I stole a scroll off a traveling Yuki shinobi and when I opened it, a snow leopard leaped out and pinned me down.” He chuckled. “After a very long conversation, I earned her respect and she allowed me to sign the summon contract.”

He looked down at Madara’s left foot where a calligraphy brush rested over the arch. “My new sensei for kenjutsu discovered I was interested in fuuinjutsu and began teaching me. I fell in love with it.” On the arch of the other foot was a lightning bolt and Tobirama laughed. “Oh that would be the day I perfected the Hiraishin. I was so pleased with myself, and eager to use it against Izuna.”

“He wore that bruise from the flat of your blade for two weeks. Pouted the entire time and muttered about ‘cheating bastards’ too.”

“Awww poor baby.” Tobirama slipped out of the embrace, bypassing the imprint in the center of Madara’s chest to circle around behind him. He caught his breath at the sight of the wings on Madara’s back. Gyrfalcon wings that stretched from the top of the shoulders down to the small of the back. He trailed his fingers down those wings. “The day my father died. For the first time in my memory I felt...free. I didn’t have to follow the orders of a cold, cruel man who cared only for revenge any longer.”

Madara closed his eyes and soaked in the touch on his back. “You were finally able to fly.”

“Yes.” Tobirama trailed a finger over a bruised and bleeding heart just below the nape of Madara’s neck. “When did this one appear?”

“I don’t remember. I was two. You’d have barely been in the world.” Madara had always ached over that battered heart he wore on his skin.

“I think it would be from my parents rejection. I was premature and then I was...wrong. Pale and weak and so sensitive to everything. I wasn’t anything they wanted in a surety heir. I don’t think they did more than glance at me until I was old enough to be trained.” Tobirama smoothed his hands down the wings again to soothe the tension in Madara’s back. “It’s alright now.”

His voice took on a fond tone as he tapped fingers down Madara’s spine over the naginata there. “Touka. She took one look at me and adopted me as the baby brother she always wanted to have. It was...shocking and so very, very welcome.”

He stroked down to the small of Madara’s back where a purple rhombus sat. “Mito, from the very start she refused to allow formality between us. She cracked the seals on my lab and invaded, made me eat and dragged me out so I’d rest. This would be the day I realized she cared as much as Hashirama and accepted her as my new sister.”

He chuckled at the imprint at the very top of Madara’s left buttcheek. A trio of temari balls. He tapped them, enjoying the little twitch Madara made. “I was put in charge of the children’s training after Butsuma died and Hashirama banned any children going out on missions until they were sixteen. This was the day three of my students came running to me and tackled me with a hug.”

Madara had to smile and looked over his shoulder at his soulmate. “You’re a good sensei. And you’ve explained all but one imprint.”

“Oh that one?” He laughed at Madara’s pout and circled back around to stand in front of him and put his hands on Madara’s chest, framing the heart made of flame in the center right over Madara’s own heart. “This was what I once thought was my greatest folly.” His lips were gently curved as he lifted his eyes to Madara’s. “I was wrong about that. This, Madara, is the day I looked at you across the battlefield, fighting my brother like a wild man, and realized that I was completely, hopelessly, insanely in love with you.”

Madara’s eyes spun with Sharingan and he pulled Tobirama in and down to catch his mouth in an intense kiss. This beautiful, deadly, fascinating, perfect man was in love with him and nothing had ever thrilled him more. He nipped at Tobirama’s bottom lip and growled, “Mine,” into the kiss.

Tobirama made a happy purr, happily returning the kiss with all the love he’d thought he’d have to keep buried for the rest of his life. His hands sank into the wild silk of Madara’s hair and gripped and, oh that growl was fanstastic, pulled a little.

Madara ended the kiss reluctantly, panting against Tobirama’s mouth. “We should probably have a date first and I want to see your imprints too.”

“Mmm,” Tobirama rubbed his nose against Madara’s, “we can go on a date tomorrow. I think I’d rather take you home with me and get us both completely naked and let you explore all of me very, very thoroughly.”

Madara breathed out a rough curse but he wasn’t about to argue. “How fast can we get there?”

“I can take a passenger with Hiraishin so, right away.”

“Do it,” it was a demanding growl as Madara took Tobirama’s mouth in a kiss again as his soulmate made the hand sign to flash them both out of the office.


	4. MadaTobi - you gain a trait or skill from your soulmate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good GODS this one fought me every step of the way but FINALLY I have finished it. So we have more of Butsuma's A+ Parenting

Tobirama knew the minute their families clashed at the river. He saw Madara send a wave of water without any hand signs at Hashirama to disguise the fireball he followed up with and  _ knew _ . How many other people could use suiton without hand signs after all? Just him and, apparently, his soulmate.

It was possible he was wrong, possible that there were others with such an ability, but the odds were astronomically low.

He’d yet to receive his own trait from his soulmate, likely wouldn’t for a couple of years, so he’d just have to wait on that for confirmation. But the  _ possibility _ was terrifying. Not so much because he was unwilling to be an Uchiha’s soulmate but because he was fairly certain that no Uchiha would be pleased to have a Senju as their soulmate.

The blood feud was long-standing and entrenched and Uchiha  _ remembered _ and held onto everything with a burning passion that, while admirable, rarely allowed them to think things through  _ logically _ . Could the heir to the Uchiha ever overcome the history between their clans to accept him as soulmate? Somehow Tobirama doubted it.

Shaking himself out of the disappointment that rose up in him, he slipped into Hashirama’s room where Butsuma had locked his brother in after punishing him for meeting an unknown boy by the river. It had taken some talented acting for Hashirama to convince their father that he hadn’t known  _ who _ he’d befriended and mitigate the punishment but his brother had managed. Now it was up to Tobirama to make certain that there was lasting damage.

“Anija?” He whispered softly at the lump under the blankets on the futon. “I brought you some food and the medical kit.” He didn’t get an answer and swallowed past the thick knot that built in his throat. Kneeling beside Hashirama’s futon, he set the food and medical kit down next to him. “Are you angry with me?”

That got Hashirama to stir and the lump to roll over with a pained hiss. Then the rumpled bowl cut became visible as the blanket was pulled down. There were already dark, puffy circles under Hashirama’s eyes from pain and sadness and it made Tobirama so very, very  _ angry _ at Butsuma. He knew you weren’t supposed to hate your parents but Tobirama did. He hated his father more than Butsuma hated the Uchiha for what his father did to his brothers in the name of a pointless war.

Hashirama wriggled closer and lifted his head just enough to rest his cheek on Tobirama’s lap. “No.” His voice was rough either from holding exclamations of pain in or from the crying jag he had after being locked in his room. “Of course I don’t, Tobira. If you had disobeyed Chichue, he would have been worse on both of us.”

“Still, I’m sorry you lost your friend, Anija.” Tobirama’s hand fell to Hashirama’s hair and smoothed it down. 

“He’s still my friend even if we can’t see each other.”

“Anija...”

“No, no. I’m not being stubborn. Madara wants peace as much as I do, wants the fighting and killing to end so we don’t lose anymore brothers. He wants peace and one day we’ll have the chance to make that happen. Won’t you help, Tobira?”

Tobirama sighed. “You  _ are _ being stubborn. Even if he’s the heir to his clan, his is not the only opinion that matters. You will have to change the mind of our clan  _ and _ the Uchiha clan. The  _ Uchihas _ , Anija. The clan renowned for never forgetting anything and putting their entire heart and soul into everything. How do you intend to convince an entire clan of such passionately stubborn asses?”

Hashirama pouted. “That’s mean, Tobira.”

“I am not a nice person, Anija.” One slim white brow lifted.

“...I guess you aren’t, no. But you’re  _ kind _ and plenty stubborn and passionate yourself.” A little grin bloomed on Hashirama’s face. “You and Madara’s clan would probably get along marvelously if you had the chance.”

“That or we’d destroy all the land within a five kilometer radius. Are you really willing to risk that?”

“I saw the suiton too, Tobirama.” The grin had dropped and Hashirama sat up, expression somber and determined. “Chichue didn’t make the connection but I’ve seen you do exactly the same as Madara did today. You haven’t received your trait yet but for an Uchiha to have that much skill with suiton, it comes from another.” He reached out and cupped his little brother’s face. “I want peace but more than that, I want you to be  _ happy _ . You bring Chichue’s attention to yourself all the time to protect us, drive yourself into the ground training and learning and experimenting to better the clan’s life. You deserve more than I’ve been able to give to you and more than our clan will give.”

Tobirama’s throat went thick again as his brother pressed their brows together. 

“Uchiha are stubborn and passionate, they remember, and they  _ love _ stronger than anyone else I’ve ever seen except  _ you _ . They would raze the world to the ground for those they consider their own and I  _ want that for you _ . The Senju don’t appreciate you as they should, otouto, but the Uchiha  _ would _ . If we can just make peace, you could have what you’re worthy of.”

“That,” Tobirama’s voice was husky with suppressed emotion, “is without a doubt the sappiest thing you have ever said to me, Hashirama. I think you’re high on pain.”

Hashirama pulled away and pouted. “I am  _ not _ .”

“Oh hush and eat while I treat your injuries.” Tobirama pushed the tray of food at his brother and moved around behind him to deal with the welts their father’s caning had created on his brother’s back.

“Stubborn little brother.” Hashirama muttered as he scooped stew into his mouth.

“Hm.” Tobirama’s touch was gentle as he cleaned the welts. Even Hashirama wasn’t able to heal himself quickly enough to avoid infection yet. He studied the vivid red of the injuries as he worked and Hashirama ate before speaking again. “I’ll see what I can do to help you achieve your dream of peace, Anija. I am weary of the children in our clan dying for the pride and hatred of our elders.”

He just sighed when Hashirama flailed in excitement, spilling the stew all over the floor.

* * *

It was in the middle of a one on one fight against Madara’s little brother, years after the confrontation at the river, that Tobirama’s soulmate trait manifested.

He and Izuna were so deep in the forest they could barely hear the battle between their clans and they were both struggling to get by the other so they could return to the battlefield and help defend their clans. 

Tobirama could tell that Izuna was getting low on chakra but his taijutsu and kenjutsu were unaffected. Unfortunately for Tobirama he could not say the same. His chakra was still high but a sneak attack from behind by Uchiha Yoshiro while he’d been distracted fighting Izuna had given him a nasty gouge over the ribs. He was having trouble blocking Izuna’s blows as the pain kept him from moving as smoothly as he usually did and he needed to resort to using more ninjutsu than he normally did in a battle with Izuna.

He had no desire to kill Madara’s brother and the best way to avoid that was to limit the amount of ninjutsu. Most of his ninjutsu was designed to cause serious damage. After this he’d have to devote more time to learning more ninjutsu that shielded or caused minor injury that simply hobbled the opponent temporarily.

A well aimed fireball caught his arm and Tobirama hissed as he drew water from the air to put it out. The distraction gave Izuna enough of an opening to drive his sword forward, aiming at Tobirama’s heart. He saw it coming and adrenaline surged through him. He knew he’d never block the blow in time but perhaps he could shift enough to keep it from being lethal. 

He started to turn and then a stabbing pain came from his eyes and resonated through his skull, driving him to his knees as a skeleton form chakra construct sprang up around him, purple chakra blocking Izuna’s blow as Tobirama panted through the pain and stared in shock at the beginnings of Susanoo that was shielding him.

Izuna skidded back, his jaw dropping and his sword held loosely in one hand as he took in the sight of Tobirama being protected by a Sharingan technique. He gawked in astonishment at Tobirama. Those eyes were as red as they always were but certainly didn’t have any Sharingan tomoe or Mangekyou structures in them and yet Susanoo stood sentinel around the White Demon, a very  _ familiar _ form of Susanoo. It wasn’t complete, just the beginnings of the form the chakra construct could take, but Izuna easily recognized his  _ brother’s _ Susanoo. His brother, the only Uchiha who was as proficient in suiton as he was in katon.

The realization hit Izuna between the eyes with the force of a swing from the Uchiha gunbai and he took a step back before turning to flee back to the battlefield as quickly as he could. It would take Senju some time to figure out how to turn Susanoo off before he could follow and Izuna needed to get back and force a retreat so he could speak to his brother privately.

* * *

Izuna bid a cheerful farewell to propriety and barged into his brother’s bedroom as soon as the immediate aftermath of the battle was over. He ignored the spluttering and bellowing about privacy coming from the man flailing in the tub that had been brought into the room so Madara could wash away the dirt and grime and blood of the fight.

“By the eternal flame, Izuna, what is wrong with you coming in here like that without so much as a knock!” Madara growled, sitting up from the hot water that had been soothing his stress away. “You aren’t even out of your armor!” Irritation fled in a wave of worry. “Did something happen? Did something go wrong? Are-”

“Aniki!” Izuna snapped to shake Madara out of the worry starting to spiral through him, locking the door so no one else could barge in. Then Izuna walked to stand in front of the tub and just flopped down onto his ass in a slump. “When the Senju D...” Izuna raked a hand through his hair and corrected himself, “when Tobirama and I were separated from the main battle after Yoshiro stabbed him in the back, which remind me later to punch him for that, Senju faltered and I would have taken his head off. Except something happened. Aniki, he formed Susanoo.” 

Madara’s eyes went wide, shock curling through him. “He...formed Susanoo?”

“He formed  _ your _ Susanoo, Aniki. Just the skeleton but I recognize it.” Izuna crossed his arms over the rim of the copper lined wash tub then dropped his head onto them with a groan. “You use water like you do fire and he’s got your Susanoo, why’d you have to be my rival’s soulmate Aniki?” It was a pouty whine. “I can’t murder him now!”

_ ‘Soulmate.’ _ Madara tested the words out in his head.  _ ‘Senju Tobirama is my soulmate.’ _

Oddly, the idea of it didn’t bother him. When he thought on the times he’d glanced over in battle to check on how Izuna was doing and seen Tobirama meeting Izuna blow for blow and sometimes coming out on top, he could only feel a little tingle of smug  _ pride _ . His soulmate, while from their biggest rival clan, was so strong and skilled that only Izuna could hold him off while Madara was occupied with Hashirama and Tajima with Butsuma. In fact, thinking on it now, Madara was fairly certain that Tobirama was more than strong enough to beat Tajima into the dirt.

“Ugh, you’re smiling,” Izuna whined. “Dammit Aniki, this is a mess not a smiling situation! If Tou-san finds out-”

“And who would tell him? Only you and I know.” Madara lifted a brow at Izuna and smirked. “Suck it up, otouto. I have a very impressive soulmate and in private I fully intend to smile about it.”

Izuna groaned. “Why did it have to be my rival though? Why not the tree weirdo?”

Madara snorted and lifted a foot to shove Izuna off the rim of his wash tub, disregarding his little brother’s high pitched yelp. “Get out of my room and go clean up, you  _ reek _ .”

Izuna stomped out, cursing under his breath about asshole brothers and decided that when Madara got his peace and was able to ask his soulmate on a date, he was going to be cockblocking his brother at every possible opportunity.

\--------------------------------

It took seven years after his soulmate trait manifested before Tobirama found himself standing beside his brother as Hashirama and Madara shook hands, sealing the peace that had finally,  _ finally _ been agreed upon. He rolled his eyes when Hashirama laughed and used that hand clasp to pull Madara in for a suffocating hug, the joy in the sound infectious even to the wary among the Uchiha that had come to this treaty signing.

Tobirama saw smiles growing among both clans as Madara spluttered and flailed and demanded Hashirama let him go only for him to yell at Hashirama when that made the Senju Clan Head slump down in overdramatic sadness and felt his own shoulders relax. This would work. The clans were already seeing each other in a positive light and would see more similarities and good things in each other the more they mingled. It would only take a reason for them to mingle often to fully cement an allyship of the sort that would allow them to build a village. 

He was considering events that could be used to create that reason when he suddenly found Madara standing in front of him  _ demanding _ his attention. He blinked rapidly, his head tilting down the slight fraction to allow their eyes to meet. “Is there something you need of me, Madara-sama?”

Madara held up a hand and a stream of water coalesced out of the air to twist around Tobirama’s wrist, lifting it so it hovered over Madara’s hand. “I have your suiton and  _ you _ have my Susanoo.” 

Tobirama felt his breath catch in his throat, his eyes widening as Madara spoke of their shared traits in front of their clans. “I...”

“I’ve been waiting seven years for this chance,  _ soulmate _ . Will you accept a courtship?”

He could barely hear Hashirama’s excited, squealing whispers over the rushing of his blood in his ears, could see nothing but Madara’s intense eyes in a sincere, attractive face. “You...want that? Want  _ me _ ?”

“You’re my soulmate! Of course I want you, why wouldn’t I?!” Madara glared, a little offended that Tobirama could ask the question.

“Because it’s  _ me _ . Why would  _ anyone _ want the White Demon?” Tobirama ignored Hashirama’s sorrowful blubbering denying that anything was wrong with him.

“Because you’re strong, skilled, beautiful,  _ annoyingly _ brilliant, don’t think I haven’t seen those techniques you created you little terror, and I want to know  _ more _ of you. I want more than watching you from a distance. Uchiha don’t let anything as minor as a now ended clan feud keep them from their matches, much less the asinine opinions of others.” Madara made a note to discover who exactly had ever made Tobirama feel as though he would never be wanted, and to then beat them to a pulp until they begged for Tobirama’s forgiveness.

“Minor.” He muttered it, still in faint disbelief that Madara did actually want to court him. But his hand was still being held by the water he’d given Madara above the Uchiha’s hand, patiently waiting for acceptance or rejection.

“Minor.” Madara nodded. “On top of that, haven’t you noticed that my clan has a...fondness for the pretty and the deadly? Just look at how many of the delegation are already hovering around your cousin that took down the insane Shimura clan head with her bare hands. Even Izuna is sneaking over.”

Tobirama glanced to the side and saw that Touka was indeed surrounded by starry-eyed Uchiha, one of which was actually cooing over her biceps. It was...surreal. “She’ll break his nose if he gets any closer to sniffing her hair.”

“Don’t encourage him.”

Tobirama snapped his gaze back to Madara. “He’d  _ want _ to get his nose broken?!”

“None of my clan want a partner that  _ can’t _ break our nose if we cross a line. So? Will you accept that I  _ do _ want a courtship with you, Senju Tobirama?” Madara still held his hand out for Tobirama’s.

“Before you do  _ anything _ , I think we should likely discuss cultural difference between our clans to avoid misunderstandings and miscommunication. There should be-”

“Oh for the love of the gods, Tobira, just accept the courtship with your soulmate. You can nerd over the cultural differences  _ after _ you give him an answer!” Touka barked it out even as she grabbed the long tail of Izuna’s hair and yanked him a foot away before he could sniff her own hair, dropping him on his ass. 

Madara watched a pink flush spread over Tobirama’s cheeks and swore his heart did a somersault in his chest at how much prettier his soulmate looked while blushing. “Yes, we can talk all about the rules and differences after you answer me.”

Tobirama’s stomach jumped with nerves but he reached out and took control of the water so that it spiraled around as he laid his hand in Madara’s. “I accept your offer of courtship Uchiha Madara, and extend one of my own.”

Madara’s smile was fierce, burning with excited joy. He curled his fingers around Tobirama’s and brought his soulmate’s hand to his mouth so he could press a kiss to the scarred knuckles as a pair of identical Susanoo sprang up around them displaying their connection to the world.


	5. MadaTobi - The things you lose are found by your soulmate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They're still teenagers in this one and their brothers are alive.

Tobirama had always been very,  _ very _ careful not to lose anything from a very young age. He’d vowed from the moment he’d found the high collared tunic with the Uchiha clan symbol stitched so very carefully on the back that his father would  _ never _ find out. Butsuma was absolutely rabid over anything that had to do with the Uchiha clan.

He had never understood it. It wasn’t as though their clan didn’t do to the Uchiha what the Uchiha did in turn. There was no more blame or fault to truly be cast when both clans did  _ nothing _ to end the war between them. It was hideously stupid the way no one could seem to make and keep a treaty. How difficult could it be to respect boundaries and simply  _ not _ attack? 

So when he’d learned that his soulmate was an Uchiha, for who else would be losing that tunic, to protect himself as well as his unknown Uchiha soulmate, Tobirama made certain to keep track of  _ everything _ to a nigh obsessive degree. He always knew where everything he touched or owned was at all times.

It would be nice if his soulmate could do the same but whoever they were, they were clearly a disaster of a human being that couldn’t keep track of their belongings to  _ save their life _ . Weapons, clothing that smelled of cloves, sunlight, and wood smoke, papers, writing brushes, small pretty stones, temari balls, one left sandal, a  _ collection _ of combs and hair brushes, and an inscribed rock had all found their way into Tobirama’s keeping over his short fourteen years of life.

It was enough to drive him demented. How did one person lose  _ so much _ ?! And how  _ dare _ his irresponsible soulmate have the gall to  _ smell _ so good! It was embarrassing the way it drove him to curl up with any new items at the end of the day and allow the scent to lull him to sleep.

Of course his human disaster of a soulmate was also beautifully sneaky, helpful, honorable, and  _ kind _ . More times than he could count, Tobirama had found a schedule of Tajima’s child-killing squad that had allowed him to manipulate things to keep his little brothers and the clan’s youngest out of danger. It took someone with an unshakable honor and deep kindness to be willing to risk their own clan members to protect unknown children.

Tobirama repaid that kindness by ensuring that Butsuma’s own child-killer’s missions failed. It really wasn’t all that difficult to paint small seals that would make sound, alerting any shinobi to their presence, onto a kunai or shuriken in each squad member’s weapon pouches. He hoped that had saved lives, especially lives his soulmate valued.

Still it would be nice if his soulmate didn’t lose everything that came into his keeping.

Just this morning while preparing for a mission, Tobirama had found a jeweled hairpin, gold and rubies shining vibrantly even in the dull light of breaking dawn. He still had it tucked securely inside his breastplate as he moved swift and silent through the treetops.

His father had assigned him to set up traps to sabotage the Hagoromo clan’s advance over the bridge that spanned a gorge. The Hagoromo was a clan that everyone seemed to have difficulties with due to the sheer magnitude of that clan’s insanity. How they hadn’t managed to be eradicated by all the other clans was a mystery to Tobirama.

He was leaping to a new tree when a child suddenly appeared before him, eyes wide and wet as the child began to fall.

Tobirama reacted instinctively, changing course and pushing off the tree trunk to catch the child in his arms before the little one could hit the ground. He landed in a crouch on the forest floor, cradling the tiny body against his own lanky one, and mentally cursed. Of all the times and things to lose, his soulmate had lost a  _ child _ right as Tobirama was on a vital mission.

A soft whimper drew his attention and he looked down into the round face framed by soft black hair, black eyes peered at him in fear and he refused to allow a child to fear him. “Hello little one. Are you hurt anywhere?”

The dark head shook and the child’s bottom lip quivered.

“Hey now, I’m not going to hurt you. My name is Tobirama. What’s yours?”

“Kuro.”

“Where’d you come from Kuro-kun?” Tobirama gently ran one hand over the soft black hair in a soothing stroke.

That lip quivered again and a few tears spilled down the child’s cheeks. “Aniki! Aniki’s in trouble! I wasn’t s’posed to follow him but I did and now he’s gonna die! He made me run when the mean man attacked.”

Tobirama’s belly clenched. The child hadn’t been lost but sent away for his safety and now his soulmate was facing someone dangerous. “Is your Aniki alone?”

“Yes, Madara was s’posed to lay traps on the road to keep the crazy people from coming to our home. I wanted to help and snuck out after him.”

Tobirama tucked the identity of his soulmate away and dropped the tight control he had on his sensing abilities, reaching out and out and  _ there _ . Several yards to the northwest he found what could only be an Uchiha’s signature raw with fierce determination, protectiveness, and a worrying resignation. There was also the sickening chakra of a Hagoromo completely lost to madness and bloodlust there and Tobirama knew he didn’t have time to waste.

“Hold tight to me,” he told Kuro firmly, then moved as quickly as he possibly could. He was the fastest of the Senju, was faster even than most of the Uchiha clan, and he pushed himself to move at his top speed to get to his soulmate before the Hagoromo shinobi killed him.

He paused just out of range of the fight to tuck Kuro into a hollow of a large tree. “Stay here, do  _ not _ move until I or one of your clan come to get you.” He nipped his thumb and called on one of his summons to watch over the child until he came back. Then he was running toward the fight.

He saw the teenaged Madara, hair a bit longer than it had been the day their families had clashed at the river and side bleeding profusely, flip out of the way of a blow from a Hagoromo fueled by battlelust and madness then spit a giant fireball at his attacker.

It wouldn’t be enough and Tobirama knew it. Not with the older teen already wounded and more Hagoromo on their way. He leaped down, sword out and clanging against the Hagoromo’s katana, to block another attack against Madara. His eyes narrowed on the insane grin the Hagoromo gave him and knew that drawing this out would result in nothing good.

So he drew water out of the air with a single gesture and pushed the mad shinobi back several paces to give himself room. Then using the same chakra skill that let him manipulate water with simple gestures rather than full hand signs, he  _ grabbed _ at the blood in the Hagoromo’s body and pulled it out of him in one ruthless show of power he’d kept concealed ever since he’d discovered it.

The Hagoromo’s body dropped to the ground like a wooden doll and Tobirama allowed the blood to fall and soak into the soil in front of him. Then he turned to look at Uchiha Madara, at his soulmate.

Madara was gaping in stunned amazement. If he hadn’t seen the younger teen at the river the day his meetings with Hashirama had been ended in a clash between their clans, he’d swear the pale beauty that had just defended him was a spirit. But he knew Hashirama’s brother to be just as human as he, himself was. Human, beautiful, and deadly. Was he going to attempt to capture Madara and use him as leverage for something? But no, he was sheathing his sword.

“You need to get your wound taken care of.”

“Why?” It came out in a burst of confusion and Madara  _ swore _ he saw pure exasperated despair flash in eyes the color of garnets. Beautiful eyes in a face too beautiful to bear.

“If you’d  _ like _ to bleed to death then I suppose you could leave it alone-”

“No! I mean why did you help me?” Madara scowled at Tobirama, now understanding that flash had been questioning his intelligence.

Tobirama lifted a brow, considering how best to answer that. Then he smirked and reached into his breastplate, taking out the hairpin, and threw it so that it sank point down into the dirt at Madara’s feet. “That appeared on my desk this morning. I suspect you recognize it.”

Madara’s breath caught as he saw the pin. He bent, keeping his eyes on Tobirama, and pulled it from the ground. His thumb brushed over the jewels softly. “It was my mother’s. I...I lost it last night.” He’d been so angry at himself for losing the hairpin. He kept it as a reminder of what he was fighting for, a keepsake of the woman who had shown him that love was more powerful than hate. “You...I thought I didn’t  _ have _ a soulmate. You never lose  _ anything _ .”

“No, I don’t and we don’t have time for me to explain. You’re injured, you ‘lost’ your little brother, and I have to sabotage the gorge bridge before the Hagoromo clan reaches it.”

“Kuro! You found Kuro?! Where is he?” Madara charged forward to grip Tobirama’s arm.

Since Madara had so obligingly stepped into reach, Tobirama took the opportunity to clap his hand over the idiot’s wounded side and focus the iryo jutsu he’d been learning to heal the injury enough that it wasn’t bleeding anymore. “I left him just inside the forest with one of my summons for protection while I came to keep your head on your shoulders.”

Madara flinched instinctively, expecting an attack, but when he felt the healing he relaxed. “Where? Take me to him.”

Tobirama flicked a look down at the hand clamped on his arm then back at Madara through his lashes.

“Oh fine.” Madara let Tobirama go. “Take me to my brother,” he could  _ swear _ he heard his mother’s voice scolding him from the afterlife so he tacked on a, “please.”

“That must have hurt. This way.” Tobirama led Madara to the hollow tree as quickly as he dared and knocked his knuckles on the wood.

Madara stared at the snow leopard face that poked out of the tree then the big cat’s body followed, brushing up against Tobirama briefly before vanishing in a puff of smoke as Kuro crawled out and flung himself at Madara.

“Aniki!” Kuro cried out. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! You’re hurt, I’m sorry.”

“Shhh.” Madara ran his hand over Kuro’s hair. “It’s alright now. I just need to get home to the healers.” He looked over at Tobirama. “Your clan is taking out the bridge?”

“And a few Hagoromo with it.” Tobirama inclined his head. “But only if I leave now.”

“Then go but I’ll find you again and we will continue our conversation.” If the Senju clan delayed the Hagoromo then someone else would have enough time to booby trap the roads before the Hagoromo headed for the Uchiha compound.

Tobirama just snorted and reached out to ruffle Kuro’s hair. “Keep an eye on your brother, Kuro. I think he’s a little too reckless with himself.

“Why you-!” Madara was left speechless when Tobirama moved so fast running off into the forest that he blinked and the other teen was gone.  _ ‘So fast.’ _

That was his soulmate. Fast, able to kill by pulling the blood out of someone, clever,  _ gorgeous _ , frustratingly tidy, and absolutely a little bit of an asshole.

A little smirk started to grow on Madara’s lips. He couldn’t wait to get to know Tobirama better.


	6. MadaTobi Soul Seeds (part 1)

Gentle hands brushed against vibrant green leaves, carefully pinching off dried, dead pieces of vegetation. A voice softly sang a song to the large bud growing and waiting to bloom. The petals mostly hidden by the tightly furled sepals looked as though they might be a lovely red when the time came for the bud to open. For now the bud thrived under the doting, careful attention the man tending it bestowed in endless waves.

Senju Tobirama knew that if anyone but his brother or Touka were to catch him lavishing such love and attention on a flower bud they’d be, at minimum, astonished to disbelieving. He also knew that would only increase if they knew _what_ _sort_ of seed he was coaxing to grow for him.

The Soul Seeds of Uzushio were famous among all the Elemental Countries and coveted. Only the Uzumaki knew how to create a seed that, when grown by a positive, loving hand, would create a small creature that looked like your soulmate. It was the only known way to discover who your soulmate even _ was _ but the seeds were closely guarded and took endless negotiations to be allowed to buy one. The Uzumaki Clan refused to give a seed to anyone who might turn knowledge of their soulmate’s identity into a weapon and it took months to years for anyone seeking a Soul Seed to be approved.

When Tobirama had gone to Uzushio to enter into diplomatic negotiations between the Senju and Uzumaki with hopes of establishing trade, the last thing on his mind had been soulmates or the Seeds. The instant he’d seen the little creature that constantly perched on the Uzumaki Princess’ shoulder that had changed. He’d recognized the humanoid face as his brother’s in an instant even with the tiny bear nose, paws, ears, and tail that the creature had.

It had startled him badly enough that he’d actually blurted out ‘Anija’ in front of the entire Uzumaki clan. Mito’s stunned stumble only slightly mitigated the embarrassment he still felt over his outburst. Diplomatic negotiations had instantly turned to creating a marriage contract. Somehow, over the months he’d spent in Uzushio for that, Tobirama had managed to impress Mito’s family a great deal. When they’d arrived at the Senju compound for the wedding, her brother had given him a Soul Seed to grow.

He’d planted it almost immediately and had been pampering the Soul Seed for a year since. Few would expect it but then few knew how much Tobirama loved those who took the time to work past the walls he’d built to protect himself in the hostile conditions of Butsuma’s parental ‘care’ and war. Even fewer knew how much he longed for someone of his own, for someone who could accept, understand, and perhaps even love him for who he was without attempting to change him into something more comfortable for them.

He dropped all his shields tending to it and did things that would be embarrassing should anyone witness them. Singing to the Seedling, touching leaves and the bud with whisper soft fingers, murmuring his dreams to it. Every wish, every tiny piece of foolish optimistic hope he held deep in the heart all but his brother and Touka believed not to exist was put into the Seedling.

He ghosted a thumb along a leaf and smiled at the Seedling. “I’m going to work on a new healing technique today, little one. It should be gentler than Hashi’s mokuton. Anija always feels so badly about how rough his healing can be with the rapid regeneration. Silly man worries about the scarring no matter how many times I tell him that scars are far better than the alternative. But then Anija is so very tender-hearted over such things. It’s an admirable trait, even when he’s dramatic about it.” 

He bent and brushed a whisper of a kiss to the sepals of the bud. “I’ll return before dinner.” He left the Seedling sitting in the windowsill to soak in the sunlight of the afternoon and went to work on the healing jutsu, missing the way the bud plumped up and sepals began to separate.

He spent a good two hours on the jutsu before returning to his quarters to check on the Seedling. Stepping into the room, eyes seeking out the bud, he made a startled, delighted sound when he saw how close the bud was to opening. 

Rushing over to the Seedling he cupped his hands around the splitting bud. “Have you decided to open for me today, little one? It’s alright, you can do it. I’m right here.” He noted that the bud split further with his encouraging words and continued to offer them, praising the Seedling and promising that he was going to take wonderful care of them out of their bud. “I know I’ll love you, little one, so won’t you come out for me?”

He held his breath as the bud slowly unfurled, vibrantly beautiful red petals opening to reveal the tiny creature inside. The Seedling creature was tucked in on itself, wings curled over a tiny head, allowing only a little tuft of fluffy black hair to be seen between feathers, a fan of tail feathers spread from the base of the creature’s spine, partially covering humanoid thighs that transitioned from the knee to talons. It was roughly the size of a black-thighed falconet though the patterning of the feathers was that of a sparrowhawk.

Tobirama kept his hands cupped around the bud. “Hello, little one.” 

A black eye peeked out from behind primary feathers and the little creature made a whistling chirp then lowered its wings. Its head was still tipped down, a long mane of hair concealing the face as the wings tucked in on either side of the humanish torso and it stood on its talons.

The hair seemed familiar to him and a worry began to settle into Tobirama’s belly but he offered his cupped hands to the Seedling creature. He watched the talons pick their way delicately from the wilting flower to his hands and then the tiny face lifted and the hopes he’d so carefully nurtured within him died a swift and ugly death.

A completely human face met his gaze, a face he knew very well indeed. The face of Uchiha Madara. The Seedlings were never wrong when grown with love and that meant his soulmate was a man who he _ knew _ hated him. Hated him for daring to clash with Izuna, for daring to draw blood, for ruining the friendship with Hashirama. Madara, Tobirama knew, would _ never _ accept him as his soulmate.

But Tobirama had years of experience in burying pain, disappointment, and grief for the good of those he cared for and this little creature with Madara’s face was _ not _ the man who hated him. He cradled the Seedling creature in his hands and brought it close to his face. “I’m so happy to meet you at last. May I call you Dara-chan?”

The tiny chest puffed up and there was another whistling chirp before the Seedling creature hopped forward to nuzzle against his chin, hair soft as eiderdown.

He smiled despite himself. “I believe I will take that as a yes.” His thumb rubbed at the little head. “Come then, Dara-chan. Let’s eat and figure out clothing for you so you won’t get cold.” 

Tobirama carefully settled his Dara-chan on his shoulder and went to sneak food from the kitchens. He had no intention of anyone seeing his Seedling’s true form. He didn’t want the shock and pity that would cause. He would simply tell Mito and Hashirama that the bud had opened and he was keeping his Seedling to himself.

Even if the Senju and Uchiha made peace and his brother’s impossible dream of a village came to fruition, Tobirama couldn’t imagine Madara looking at _ him _ as anything other than something to despise. So, to protect his heart, keeping Dara-chan a secret was the best course of action.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now you KNOW I'm not gonna end it there folks. I am incapable of leaving it there so as the parentheses say, there will be a part 2.
> 
> The soul seed concept is ENTIRELY taken from Yiji's Seed Wolf comic, which I do highly recommend if you enjoy Teen Wolf ficcery.
> 
> OMG ROOKIEDRAWER MADE ART FOR THIS [GO FEAST YOUR EYES UPON IT ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24083482/chapters/57964864)AND EXPRESS YOUR WONDER GIVE THEM ALL THE KUDOS AND COMMENTS.


	7. MadaTobi Soul Seeds (Part 2)

Peace was...odd to Madara. He was so very used to fighting, so used to expecting the Senju he was working with to attack that he often found himself staring in disbelief when he saw his clan working easily with the Senju clan. 

But that had  _ nothing _ on how strange it was to see  _ Izuna _ hanging off Senju Tobirama like a monkey demanding attention during the building stages of the village.

“Get off me.”

“But Tooooooobi, I’m bored! Everyone is busy and I want to spar.”

“In case it escaped your notice, Izuna, I too am busy. Perhaps you should find a hobby to occupy yourself or join the construction teams.”

“I keep getting kicked off the teams. Apparently I’m too clumsy with building materials.”

Madara just watched as Tobirama continued to sketch out whatever blueprint he had created this time while elbowing Izuna aside or pushing him off and countering Izuna’s whining with calm snark.

He’d come across this same exact scene too many times to count once the construction on the village had begun and it still baffled him. Not so much Izuna’s clinging to Tobirama, his little brother had the Uchiha habit of ‘claiming’ strong people as ‘theirs’ in spades, but Tobirama’s tolerance of it.

He’d seen the Senju heir eviscerate people for daring to simply brush their fingers against his arm. He’d seen the man rip his own clan members apart for invading his personal space in fact yet he allowed Izuna to cling.

“You are staring at my brother-in-law again.” Mito drew up beside Madara like mist.

“Harpy.” Madara drawled. He liked Hashirama’s wife but he also liked to make his best friend flail and wail by ‘insulting’ her, though she clearly didn’t consider it an insult from the way her lips always curved. He looked over at her then blinked when he saw something on her shoulder. “What is that?”

She turned her head and looked down at her Seedling. She smiled and rubbed a finger between the tiny bear ears. “Do you not know? Kuma-kun is the true form of the Soul Seed I grew when I came of age.”

Madara had heard of the Uzumaki Soul Seeds, of course he had, but he’d never seen one much less the fully formed creature that was born from them. “I’ve never seen one. He looks like Hashirama...only cuter.”

“Do not tell my husband that, he will sulk for days.” Mito shook her head at the gleam in Madara’s eyes at that and allowed him to hold a finger out to her Kuma-kun. “Back to the previous subject, your habit of watching Tobirama.”

Madara’s lips twitched as the tiny creature, tiny enough to fit in Mito’s palm, sniffed at then pawed his finger, clinging a bit. “It’s not a habit. I’m simply observing him with my brother.”

“Mmmhmm. Why? Surely you don’t think Tobirama would jeopardize the alliance by-” She lifted a brow at the loud snort that got her. “Apparently not.”

“And ruin all the work he’s busted his ass over so far? Make Hashirama cry? Not a chance. I don’t know him well but I can tell he’s a loyal little shit and  _ hates _ to have his work ruined.”

“True enough.” Mito mused. “So why?”

“I can’t figure out why he tolerates it,” Madara gestured at Izuna now nearly pulling Tobirama’s haori off in his pleas for attention.

Mito hummed, taking note of how Madara kept playing with Kuma-kun even as she looked at Izuna pestering Tobirama. “He likes Izuna-san, now that the clans are at peace and they aren’t trying to kill each other, much the same way he likes Hashirama. Your brother isn’t as...mercurial as my husband but he is rather dramatic. Tobirama is well accustomed to working with that and he...” she hesitated.

Madara looked at her sharply. “What?”

Mito wondered for a moment if she should hold her tongue but she suspected it may not only be Izuna who could be a friend to Tobirama. “He appreciates that your brother seems to like him as he is. Izuna-san might beg for attention but he never tries to get Tobirama to behave in a way unlike himself.”

Dark brows furrowed and Madara absently allowed Kuma-kun to clamber over his hands. “And that is...unusual?”

Mito watched her Seedling play over very gentle gloved hands, clearly enjoying itself the same way Hashirama enjoyed spending time with Madara and hid her fond smile behind her fan. “Most people find his intensity, intelligence, and sharp tongue off-putting. Many over the years have tried to change him into someone they would be more comfortable with. And of those far too many did so after earning his trust.”

Madara caught Mito’s Seedling when it slipped in the middle of climbing his sleeve, the bearlike miniature Hashirama making a tiny squeaking grunt of dismay, and scowled as he absorbed Mito’s words.

The concept of one person trying to make another to change who they were for their own comfort was offensive to the leader he was at his core. He’d learned on his own to value his people and allies for who they were, to see how differences could slot together to make a stronger whole. It made him itch between his shoulder blades to think of someone trying to force another into an ill-fitting mold. He made a soft, derisive sound. “Idiots.”

Mito’s smile took on a sharp edge. “Indeed. So Tobirama appreciates your brother’s lack of such idiocy..” She reached out with a cupped hand to reclaim her Seedling. “Have a good evening, Madara.”

Madara hummed faintly as Mito went to go about her business and studied his brother continuing to pester Tobirama. Impulse moved him forward. “Izuna! Stop trying to strip Hashirama’s brother where he stands.”

Izuna huffed. “I am  _ not _ trying to strip him.”

“The half off haori says otherwise.” Madara folded his arms and gave him brother a long stare.

“Okay maybe I got a little enthusiastic.” Izuna shrugged. “I’m  _ bored _ . I’m useless with the building of the village.”

“Tobirama will still be in the area after the work day if you want to demand his attention. You may be useless with the construction and planning but you have other skills that would be useful. You’re a people person and there are a few people who  _ could _ contribute more but haven’t. Go convince them.” Madara dragged his brother into an affectionate headlock then pushed him on his way.

Izuna razzed him but bounded off to do just as he asked.

Madara found himself pinned by narrow red eyes. “What?”

“I am not going to harm your brother.” Ice clung to Tobirama’s voice.

“Hell, I know that. But you  _ are _ busy and his pestering slows you down. The sooner the village is built the better for everyone.” He braced his hands on the table opposite Tobirama. “What are you drafting?”

Suspicious eyes studied him for a long moment before Tobirama began to explain the blueprint he’d drawn up for a center market and the issue he’d been trying to work out when Izuna had poked his nose in.

Madara listened and tilted his head, his hair falling into his face a little so that he lifted a hand to flick it out of his way.

Tobirama felt his heart hitch a bit, recognizing the flick as one his Seedling did often. He looked back down at the blueprint so he could keep his expression neutral and not give anything away.

“What if you moved this configuration,” Madara tapped a section on the paper, “forty degrees to the left? It would allow for the defensive curve without crowding the street.”

Tobirama’s brows shot up and he looked at the blueprint from a different angle before quickly revising it with Madara’s suggestion. “It leaves this section exposed but...”

Madara watched as Tobirama’s long, elegant hands rapidly sketched out an L shaped building to fill in the gap then rearranged minor details until the layout flowed smoothly. 

“And that also solves the plumbing problem.” He lifted his gaze to Madara’s, a faint pleased look making the red gleam brighter. 

“There was a plumbing problem?” He hadn’t heard about that and he lifted a brow at Tobirama’s casual shrug. “What other problems are you beating your head against that you’ve kept quiet about because it’ll go in one of Hashirama’s ears and out the other?”

Speculation flickered on Tobirama’s face briefly then he pulled out another blueprint. “The electricity grid. There are too many gaps for safety.”

Madara studied the plan drawn out and listened as Tobirama went into deeper detail, words flowing rapidly, then made a suggestion only to see another spark of realization and enthusiasm light up ruby eyes. 

He lingered with Tobirama over more plans, occasionally bickering about better ways to do something but with less hostility than previous arguments, unable to pull himself away from the way that enthusiasm over a solved problem brought life to the usually icy expression and made him realize that Tobirama was beautiful.  _ ‘Uh-oh.’ _

* * *

With Madara’s assistance troubleshooting the plans, the village was built well enough to begin habitation within two months rather than the six Tobirama had initially projected. They even had a main administrative building, which was where Madara found himself sharing an office with Tobirama as they worked to get the paperwork of running a village made up of mostly warriors still attempting to settle from generations of nothing but war set up in a way that worked. Infrastructure and laws and taxes were not Hashirama’s strong suit and so that fell to him and Tobirama to hammer out.

It was remarkably pleasant sharing an office with Tobirama, so long as no one set either of them off into a foul mood. 

Which, from the way Tobirama snapped the door closed sharply behind him as he came in with an armful of scrolls and files, Madara could guess someone had done. At barely nine in the morning.

He watched the crimson eyes glint dangerously as Tobirama set his armload on his desk, a wash of faintest pink creeping up the Senju heir’s neck in a flush of anger, and the graceful hands move sharply as they sorted the paperwork. “Do I dare ask?”

The seething look throw his way had a nigh physical force.

“Your elders,” Tobirama hissed out between clenched teeth, “submitted a proposal for me to develop a seal that would  _ prevent _ any future Senju children from inheriting the mokuton.”

The appreciation of how well anger sat on Tobirama dropped away and Madara sat up straighter. “They did  _ what _ ?”

He caught the scroll Tobirama winged his way neatly and opened it, reading the proposal with his own temper beginning to bubble up. Especially when he saw which elder had put forth the proposal. Elder Himeko. The old sow was constantly trying to undermine him and his leadership. “Did she ‘submit’ this in person?”

“Yes.” It was an icy snap of a response. 

Madara stretched his senses out, he wasn’t at Tobirama’s level of sensor but he could certainly feel across Konoha, and found the old biddy still within the tower. He jerked to his feet. 

“I’ll be back shortly,” his own tone was sharp, a dangerous growl, as he stalked out of the room.

Tobirama automatically reached out to follow him with his senses and leaned back on his desk to focus on the sensation of the simmering pit of fury winding through the tower, many other shinobi leaping away frantically, down to where Hashirama was still attempting to be diplomatic to Uchiha Himeko.

Diplomacy was not Madara’s skill and Tobirama had to smirk when he felt that fury bubble over upon reaching Hashirama and the old woman. The banked embers of the elder’s own chakra flared and dampened in terror in the face of her clan head’s anger. It soothed the rage that Tobirama had been choking on after reading that  _ asinine _ proposal.

He went to the window and saw Madara backing the elder out of the tower, watched her scrambling away on her geta, leaving various kanzashi and other ornaments behind as they fell from her person in her stumbling rush not to be destroyed by Madara.

He met Sharingan eyes when they lifted to the window, not at all surprised that Madara had sensed him watching, and gave his unknowing soulmate a small salute. The smirk it got from the Uchiha Head actually made his heart  _ flutter _ of all ridiculous things.

He stepped back from the window, shaking his head at himself as he sat at his desk. Madara had become as regular a presence in his life as Hashirama and it was bad for his heart. Because Madara, for all his dramatics and flailing and irritability, was also one of the least judgemental people Tobirama had ever met.

Tobirama had watched Madara easily accept the differences and quirks of whoever he was put in charge of and find the perfect position for them to make the best of everything they had. It was undeserved arrogance based upon one’s family name or wealth that seemed to trigger Madara’s worst snaps of temper against others. But he’d never seen Madara grow angry or impatient over a natural reticence or Tobirama speaking above Madara’s comprehension. In fact, Madara tended to wait him out then ask him to dumb it down so he could follow along next time.

Madara didn’t seem to find him off-putting and it was dragging Tobirama into love with the older man.

A flutter outside the window caught Tobirama’s attention and he looked up in time to see Dara-chan fly into the office. 

The Seedling flew in a circle around the office before lighting on the desk in front of Tobirama, feathers fluffing lightly as he chirped.

“Hello little one.” Tobirama checked where Madara was in the tower, caught by Hashirama, and reached out to pet gentle fingers over the wild hair of his Seedling. He knew the little creature followed him all over Konoha but Dara-chan seemed to be a genius at remaining undetected so it didn’t worry him. “What have you been doing this morning?”

Another chirp came from the Seedling and a small talon pushed something forward.

Tobirama picked up the small bright blue silk flower with the tiny topaz stone in the center and recognized it as having come from Uchiha Himeko’s kinchaku. He made a soft, amused huff. “Did you snatch this off the bag itself or the ground after she ran away?”

He held out his hand and, when his Seedling stepped up to perch on his wrist, brought him up to nuzzle against his cheek. “Thank you, Dara-chan.”

The little one made a happy chirp and rubbed his head against Tobirama’s cheek happily, feathers continuing to fluff and wings fluttering slightly, tiny chest puffed out proudly.

It got a laugh out of Tobirama and he allowed Dara-chan to distract him from work until he felt Madara escape Hashirama.

* * *

Izuna watched Elder Himeko shrieking and hopping around after a small fish seemed to fall from the sky right into her yukata, flopping and slithering right down to get caught against her skin. He handed Madara a cup of tea and settled on the engawa to watch the farce unfold. “I don’t suppose you have any idea who’s been pranking the old bat?”

Madara hid his amused smile behind the cup and shook his head. “I don’t but whoever they are I appreciate their cleverness. It was water yesterday wasn’t it? A cup of water placed over her front door.”

“And her sleeve dogs released into the garden to dig unsupervised the day before. It is absolutely  _ beautiful _ .” Izuna disliked the old bag almost as much as Madara did. “She keeps insisting it has to be Senju subverting the peace but no one, not even Yashiro, is buying that. Not that I don’t think it could be a Senju but targeting just  _ one _ person in the clan? Whoever they are they’ve got an issue with her specifically.” 

Madara snickered quietly when the fish managed to flop down further as Himeko was now shrieking about getting it out of her koshimaki. “If it is a Senju I can’t blame them but it could be someone from one of the Trinity clans that just joined Konoha. I can absolutely see a Yamanaka being behind this especially after her insults over the Yamanaka family techniques.”

“Not a Nara?” Izuna grinned when Himeko’s daughter rushed out, trying to coax her mother inside to help her get rid of the fish. 

“No. A Nara would be more insidious. Sage save us but the Nara are just...entirely too clever for the majority of the world to dare angering one. We can only be grateful it’s also incredibly difficult to genuinely piss a Nara off.”

Izuna made a hum of agreement then snorted when Himeko began yelping an accusation against Tobirama. “Please, if Tobi was behind the pranks she’d have been utterly destroyed by now.”

“Very true.” Madara murmured, thinking of how Tobirama had most recently sent the Hyuga representative back to their clan with his ego in pieces after the little shit had insulted the Uchiha clan.

“What was that?” Izuna pointed at his brother.

“What?” Madara jolted and sipped tea.

“That  _ tone _ .” The pointing finger wagged. “Why did you have the ‘hot damn’ tone in your voice?”

“I did  _ not _ have the...stop calling it the ‘hot damn’ tone! It’s a ridiculous description!” Madara pushed Izuna’s hand away, ignoring the heat in his cheeks.

“You absolutely  _ did _ have the ‘hot damn’ tone and not you’re blushing! You think he’s hot! You’ve got the hots for-mmph!”

“For fuck’s sake keep your voice down!” Madara’s hand clamped tighter over Izuna’s mouth and bore his little brother back onto the engawa so he couldn’t squirm away from the shushing hand. “I do not have...I am not interested in....shut up!” He snarled it when he felt Izuna start laughing. “I will dump you head first into the koi pond so help me, Izuna. Then you’ll have the joy of a fish in your fundoshi!” 

Izuna kicked him away and started wrestling while laughing his ass off, making kissy noises and whispering Tobirama’s name in between snickers.

“I’ll murder you!” Madara growled and tried to get a good grip on his slippery little brother, rolling off the engawa like a pair of ill behaved puppies.

“Are we interrupting?” The cool, amused voice had both brothers freezing.

Madara felt embarrassment turn his face red and he turned his head to see Mito with her brow raised standing beside a grinning Hashirama. He sputtered and leaped off his brother, flailing an arm and pointing at his friend. “Wipe that look off your face!”

“Awww but it’s so ni~ice to see you having fun, Madara!” Hashirama kept grinning even as he glanced over at where Himeko was wailing as the fish had finally flopped out of her clothes. “Is...your elder well?”

Madara huffed, face still blazing, and threw himself back up onto the engawa, folding his arms and glaring. “She’s fine. Someone’s been playing tricks on her for a few weeks now. This morning somehow a fish fell from the sky into her clothes.”

Mito’s smile was cool as she walked forward with Hashirama to join Madara on the engawa. “How...distressing for her.”

Izuna made a soft snort as he lifted up to sit next to his brother again. “Whoever she pissed off deserves a medal. She’s such an awful old bag.” He watched as something clambered out of Mito’s sleeve. “Hey that looks like the tree had a child with a teddy bear.” He leaned forward in fascination.

Madara groaned and ran a hand over his face. “That, you idiot, is a Soul Seedling.”

“Really? I always figured they’d be all plantlike.” Izuna leaned in further, reaching out and placing his hand palm up on the engawa for the Seedling to inspect. He grinned when it sniffed then climbed up to turn in a circle like a dog making a bed in the center of his palm before sitting down, legs splayed, little front paws planted in front of it. “Aww aren’t you cute?”

Mito chuckled as Izuna lifted her Seedling up and close to his face. “The Seedlings represent the grower’s soulmate and take on traits to better show that. I know of one, perhaps two that have flowers sprouting from their hair but mostly the traits are animalistic.”

Izuna grinned when his nose was honked by tiny bear paws.

Madara shook his head at his brother and poured tea for Hashirama and Mito. He lifted a brow and held up a third cup in question. “Would Kuma-kun drink tea or-”

“No, he prefers water. Though he would enjoy some of the taiyaki.” Mito took her cup of tea from Madara and smiled at the way Izuna snatched up one of the fish shaped treats to give to Kuma-kun. She was beginning to think that the Uchiha brothers were both suckers for small, cute things.

“What brings you this way so early in the day?” Madara asked then gave Hashirama a long look. “You didn’t abandon your brother to a mess of paperwork did you? You know I won’t save you from his wrath.”

Hashirama pouted. “Tobi knows we’re here. Don’t be mean.”

“I  _ am _ mean, don’t ask for the impossible.” Madara relaxed.

Hashirama rolled his eyes but let his pout disappear. “Mito has a gift for you, Madara.”

Dark brows drew together. “What? Why?”

She chuckled. “Technically it is a gift from Uzushio to the other founder of Konoha. I am merely the delivery system. It is both a sign of good faith and a cementing of the treaty between Konoha and Uzushio.” She sipped more tea. “In addition, I get great joy out of giving your elder council grief over their machinations and this will do so very neatly.”

One of his brows winged up, his curiosity piqued. “What is ‘this’?”

Mito drew an intricately carved box from her sleeve and bowed her head, offering it to Madara formally on outstretched palms. “As the eldest daughter of Uzushio’s Chief, this Uzumaki Mito offers you, Clan Head Uchiha Madara, this token of Uzushio’s esteem with wishes for your deepest happiness.”

Madara set his tea down and bowed to accept as formally as the gift was presented. “This Uchiha Madara thanks you, Princess of Uzushio Uzumaki Mito, for your generosity and well wishes. May the Eternal Flame burn brightly for your people.”

He straightened and looked down at the box that was carved with a motif of cresting waves against a rocky shore. He opened it and sucked in a sharp breath when he saw a seed, the size of a plum pit, sitting on a bed of red-orange silk. His head jerked up and wide eyes met Mito’s. “This is-”

“A Soul Seed. If you choose to plant it and grow it with love and positive energy, it will blossom and the creature within the bloom will wear the face of your soulmate.” She reached out and gently claimed Kuma-kun back from a goggling Izuna. She affectionately nuzzled her Seedling. “You would never seek to use such a connection as a weapon, would honor and cherish it.”

Madara stared down at the seed. Mito wasn’t wrong. Soul Seeds were the only way to truly know who your soulmate was and the Uchiha Clan nigh revered such bonds. He would  _ never _ pass up the chance to find his soulmate. Even though he had feelings for Tobirama, he would grow the Soul Seed. 

If he hoped deep within his heart that the face the true form of the Seedling would turn out to be Tobirama’s? Well that was his business alone, wasn’t it?

* * *

The entire Uchiha Clan knew Madara was ridiculous. They’d always known, from the time he was a boy, that he was ridiculous but his behavior with his Soul Seed took the usual silly madness their Clan Head was known for and pushed it beyond even their tolerance.

He’d built a sunroom off the main house  _ solely _ for the Soul Seed. With his own hands. The healers had needed to mend bones and bruises and all manner of cuts from clumsy misses with the tools until they’d nearly begged him to get help from Senju Hashirama. But despite the damage to himself, he’d built a rather lovely sunroom.

The sunroom had then been furnished with a highly polished maplewood table with mother of pearl inlay to hold the large pot in which Madara had planted his Soul Seed, tatami mats and silk covered cushions for the floor, and shades to keep the sun from burning too strongly, just in case.

The clan watched as Madara spent all his free time in that sunroom, clearly talking to the seedling though apparently he’d snuck privacy seals in because no one heard anything from outside the sunroom unless the windows were opened to allow in the fresh air.

That would have been fine, except their Clan Head had decided to take up music in an attempt to help his Soul Seed grow healthier. 

The shamisen phase hadn’t been too terrible. Madara’s skill with kata meant that his fingers weren’t too clumsy with the strings. The kokyu on the other hand had been  _ horrible _ . It had sounded like the screeching of the damned and Elder Himeko had sworn that it was another plot by the Senju to drive the clan to madness or death. The Biwa had been worse and no one wished to discuss how awful the drumming had been.

Fortunately Madara had found an instrument that he was rather good at in time. No one was particularly surprised that it was the shakuhachi, not with all the hot air Madara was always blowing.

Then had come the  _ decree _ .

One tiny little argument between Himeko and Yashiro outside the sunroom had inspired Madara to, terrifyingly polite and sweet, request a moment of their time in the courtyard. Where he’d proceeded to scare them badly enough that Yashiro had wet himself. Madara had then made it an order that  _ no one _ was to argue or linger around the sunroom if they were angry. He’d made it clear that he would not allow the anger or bitterness of others to intrude on his Soul Seed’s growth and would happily make the lives of anyone who ignored that order a living  _ hell _ .

It was ludicrous.

It was excessive.

It was ridiculous beyond the bounds of sanity.

And it amused the hell out of the damned Senju Clan Head that was always coming over to visit with Madara. Him and his harpy of a wife that had given Madara the blasted Seed, both found it hilarious and really that was one more reason it was an  _ awful _ state of affairs.

That blasted Seed could not grow and bloom quickly enough for the Uchiha Clan. They wanted things to go back to  _ normal _ .

* * *

Madara drummed his fingers on his desk, reading through the new treaty the Hyuga had sent with a different representative. 

“Problem?” Tobirama’s voice was a slow, smooth drawl that edged faintly into amusement.

“What?” Madara looked up to see red eyes watching him with concealed humor.

“Is there a problem with the new treaty?” Tobirama tilted his head. He’d noticed Madara’s distraction over the past few months but hadn’t yet commented on it. While he liked Madara, entirely too much, and Madara seemed not to dislike him, they weren’t bosom companions.

“Ah. Not that I’ve found yet. Though with the Hyuga there’s always a chance,” it was a dark mutter.

“Then what has you fidgeting?” Tobirama’s curiosity was stirring.

“I just...want to get home. I have a personal project I’d like to check on.” Madara was keeping knowledge of his Soul Seed to himself, his clan, and, of course, Hashirama and Mito for now.

“You only arrived an hour ago.” Tobirama set his brush aside, giving Madara, whose chakra was teeming with impatience and eagerness, his full attention. “Is it a sensitive project with rapid changes?”

“No. No. I know nothing will have changed between leaving home and now.” Madara huffed out a breath. “I’m being ridiculous. I know it. Izuna’s taken to laughing at me as soon as I step foot inside the house.”

“A very personally important project then.” Tobirama found his lips curving, amusement tickling through him at the sheepish way Madara tried to glare at him from behind his fringe. “Go home, Madara. Take what paperwork you can do at home without it disturbing your project and leave the rest for tomorrow.”

Madara eyed Tobirama suspiciously. “Really? Just like that?”

“Unlike Anija, you actually do your work. I understand having personal projects and the distraction being away from them can cause. I certainly won’t encourage it every day but for today,  _ go home _ .” Tobirama picked up his brush again and turned his attention back to his own work.

Madara didn’t need to be told thrice. He gathered what papers he knew wouldn’t put him in a bad mood together for travel and rushed for the window. He paused beside Tobirama’s desk and brushed his fingers over the Senju’s shoulder. “Thank you, Tobirama.” Then he was diving out the window and running home to spend some time lavishing attention on his Soul Seed.

Tobirama caught his breath, his shoulder far too warm considering how little contact there had been, and leaned back in his seat to calm his foolish heart’s heavy thumping. It was absurd how such a small gesture from Madara affected him. Absolutely absurd how he kept slipping further into love with the man.

The flutter of wings at the window made him smile and hold out his arm for Dara-chan to land on. He saw a little splash of blue on one of the Seedling’s cheeks. “And just what did you do to Elder Himeko today then?”

Dara-chan just chirped, fluffed his feathers, and walked up Tobirama’s arm to perch on his shoulder before starting to preen himself.

Tobirama chuckled, gently ruffled the dark hair with one finger then turned his attention to his paperwork. He might just ask Madara tomorrow if anything had happened to Himeko. The man was likely to run right into whatever Dara-chan had done to the Uchiha Elder after all.

* * *

As amusing as it was to have seen Elder Himeko covered in blue dye, her fanciest kimono ruined beyond saving, Madara was too focused on getting to his growing Soul Seed to bother taking the time to enjoy the disaster.

He passed by his giggling brother and stepped into the sunroom, where he promptly made what he would deny to his dying day was a squeal.

He rushed to the pot and knelt beside it, listening to the sound of his brother’s footsteps rushing to the sunroom.

“Aniki?! What hap- whoa.” Izuna stepped into the sunroom. “Is that-”

“A bud.” Madara breathed it out in soft wonder, fingers softly touching vibrant green leaves. “It wasn’t here when I left this morning.” He literally cooed at the tiny furled bud that had appeared in the time he’d been in the office.

“Are they supposed to grow this fast?” Izuna asked, leaning over his brother’s shoulder. 

“I don’t know.” It was a soft murmur as Madara deftly rotated the pot so that the bud would get the right amount of sunlight. “Mito only says that the Soul Seed responds to the energy and emotion their grower puts into it.”

“That would explain it alright.” Izuna drawled. “You’re ludicrously intense over your Seed. Can’t blame you but you’re nuts.”

Madara just rolled his eyes. “Get out of my sunroom, Izuna.”

* * *

The bud grew large rapidly. Every day there seemed to be leaps and bounds of growth. Two months after the bud had appeared, it was the size of a good melon and Madara had needed to support the Seedling’s stalk with padded sticks so the weight of the bud didn’t break the stem.

Mito sipped the tea Madara had served and studied the bud as her husband’s friend tended to it. “It  _ is _ rather large, yes. I’ve only seen one other Seedling grow so large but it’s nothing to be concerned over. It’s very much a reflection of how much positive emotion you’ve poured into it.”

Hashirama actually cooed at the way tension vanished from Madara’s shoulders at Mito’s assurance.

Izuna edged away from the cooing, newly elected Hokage with a roll of his eyes. “What about how fast it’s growing? Is that because Aniki is so...obsessed?”

Mito’s lips twitched in amusement at Izuna’s failed attempt at delicacy. “No. I don’t think it is. This is the most rapidly I’ve ever heard of a Soul Seed growing. Normally, even with the most devoted of caregivers,” she remembered Tobirama’s doting on his own growing Seedling that they’d yet to have seen the true form of and leaned against Hashirama’s side to give and seek comfort, “it takes a year.”

Hashirama curled his arm around his wife, his own mind going to his brother. He worried about Tobirama and how he kept his Seedling secret from them. Worried and wondered if perhaps his brother’s soulmate was already...gone. It wasn’t out of the bounds of possibility considering the world they lived in. 

Madara hummed and gently checked where the bud and stalk rested against the supporting stakes. “Always a year?”

“As far as I know, yes. I am not an expert, however. My skills do not lend themselves to the art of the Soul Seeds so I do not know the records as well as my father or brother do.” Mito leaned her head on Hashirama’s shoulder, watching as Kuma-kun managed to climb up the table to the pot and jump up and down, making soft little grunts and waving his paws at the bud.

Madara scooped Kuma-kun up in a hand. “Be gentle.” He brought Mito’s Seedling close to the bud.

The tiny paws reached out and pat, soft as a cloud, at the green sepals as Kuma-kun made whining groans.

Mito smiled. “I believe he’s looking forward to a new friend. He had so many other Seedlings to play with in Uzushio.” She suspected that Tobirama’s Seedling visited Kuma-kun when she wasn’t looking but such visits would be few and far between with how often she was with Kuma-kun.

“I’m surprised your family never gave Hashirama a Soul Seed.” Madara watched the bearlike Seedling nuzzle the bud that absolutely dwarfed the tiny creature.

“Ah...I can’t grow one.” Hashirama’s smile was sheepish as he kissed his wife’s temple. “The mokuton would try to take control and rush things. Your Seedling is perfectly safe!” He rushed to assure Madara at the way his friend’s head whipped up, eyes with with worry. “As long as I’m not the one tending to something I can keep my mokuton from accelerating growth. The same way I can pass by a rice field without growing it out of control but when I’m invested in paperwork...”

“The paper becomes flowers.” Madara huffed a soft laugh. It had ceased being annoying and become amusing after Tobirama had come up with the solution of using parchment and vellum for Hashirama’s paperwork rather than the washi the rest of them used. Tobirama had also ensured that before any paperwork was given to Hashirama, there were copies made just in case. There were still accidents but they weren’t disasters anymore.

“So, I can’t grow a Soul Seed.” Hashirama smiled at his wife and Kuma-kun when Madara brought the Seedling back to the tea table and he ran back to snuggle against Mito’s hand. “But you’ll let Kuma-kun play with your Seedling won’t you?”

Madara flicked Hashirama in the forehead. “Don’t ask questions with an obvious answer.”

Hashirama just grinned. “I can make furniture for your Seedling. I do it all the time for Kuma-kun.” He’d also made a few pieces at his brother’s request so he knew that whatever face his brother’s Seedling wore, it was a flighted creature.

“You just like showing off.” Madara teased.

Mito chuckled as that had her husband leaping on his friend and suffocating Madara with hugs that, due to his own decree, he couldn’t escape until the gong announcing dinner went off. 

Madara shoved Hashirama off of him and into Mito’s arms. “Go to the dining room, I’ll be there in a moment.”

Izuna rolled his eyes and led Mito and Hashirama out as his brother bent to the bud to say farewell as always.

Madara, completely without shame or selfconsciousness, kissed the large bud. “You keep growing, I’ll be back soon.” He straightened and left the door to the sunroom open a crack so his Seedling could hear them as they ate.

After a dinner filled with laughter and anecdotes from childhood meetings, Mito walked alongside her husband and Madara back to the sunroom to allow the meal to settle and spend more time enjoying each other's company. She was looking at Hashirama’s big grin when Madara opened the door wider but the excited shout from the man got her attention in a blink.

She jerked her face forward and saw what had Madara exclaiming.

The Seedling bud was opening, had, in fact, opened almost entirely so that you could see frosty white within separating blue petals. She gripped Hashirama’s arm to hold him in place as Madara rushed forward.

Madara trailed a finger over the vibrant blue petals and purred to the Seedling. “Are you ready to come out? You’ve grown so well and so fast! Won’t you come out to me? You know I’m excited to say hello. Everyone’s been laughing at how excited I am but I can’t help it. I’m so impatient to meet you, darling.”

With each word the petals spread more until they completely unfurled to reveal the creature within.

The Seedling’s true form was curled up, a long tail circled around a pale skinned form with black stripes that branched down the human spine and tail, legs crooked like a cat’s were covered in white fur and stretched out, the most  _ adorable _ little toe beans spreading out as the Seedling uncurled.

A puff of frosty hair lifted as the Seedling raised its head, human arms and hands stretching up as the face was revealed in a long yawn, little fangs flashing before crimson eyes opened and looked up at Madara.

Madara felt his heart do a wild tap dance in his chest and wanted to scream out in satisfied joy. His Seedling had Tobirama’s face. His soulmate was Tobirama. 

He reached out and gently lifted the Seedling into his arms. “Hello darling. Aren’t you just the most beautiful thing? A little tiger here in my arms.” The little hands reached up to bat at his hair and he leaned in to nuzzle the small cat sized Seedling, his heart melting at the little growling huff of a purr that he got in return as the Seedling rubbed his head against Madara’s cheek. “Lovely little To’ra.”

“Oh.” Mito’s hand pressed over her heart.

Madara turned to look at them and frowned. Hashirama looked like he’d just been punched in the gut. “What? What’s wrong?” He ran his hand down the striped spine of his Seedling, absently wondering where he might get clothing for him.

“I-” Hashirama was, for once, lost for words.

Mito leaned into her husband, eyes fixed on the curious red eyed Seedling peering at them from the shelter of Madara’s arms. “The Seedling I told you of, the other one that grew a bud so large?” She breathed in slowly. “It was the Soul Seed Tobirama was gifted when I married Hashirama. Before peace was made, when...Tobirama has kept his Seedling secret since it bloomed.”

Hashirama’s voice was rough, his expression devastated. “Before...when he was growing it, Tobi was so...he was excited, eager,  _ hopeful _ in a way I hadn’t seen in years. Then the day he told us it had bloomed, he said he couldn’t be with his soulmate and intended to keep his Seedling concealed. He looked...heartbroken. Now I know why.”

Madara felt horror creeping through him and he cradled his Seedling closer. They’d still been at the height of war and he’d been very  _ vocal _ about his disgust for ‘The White Demon’ that Izuna always faced. He remembered Mito’s words about why Tobirama so easily accepted Izuna’s clinging and dramatics and swore he felt a crack form in his own heart.

He could see, could imagine all too easily, how Tobirama would have poured himself into a Seedling only to be faced with the image of a man who so easily professed hatred for Tobirama.

Izuna blew out a long breath then walked over and started pushing Madara toward the door. “Then I think it’s about time Tobi gets his damned soulmate already. Move your ass Aniki, your tiger’s waited long enough.”

Madara made a sound like a tea kettle whistling and then moved so quickly that Izuna fell over with his next push, vanishing from the house as quickly as his feet could carry him.

Izuna lifted up a bit, propping his chin on his hand while stretched out belly down where he’d fallen. “Finally. The pining was starting to get to me.”

* * *

Tobirama was in the office, going over a new request to join the village. He wanted to be sure it was free of any tricks or hidden loopholes before showing it to Hashirama. “He’d accept it right away you know.”

Dara-chan puffed up his feathers with a soft chir, pausing in his meal of salmon filet. 

“It’s from Hahaue’s clan. They’ve never been willing to settle before so it’s a little suspicious, not that I think they’d do anything to  _ harm _ Konoha but they wouldn’t balk at squeezing out privileges no other clan has. Better to make sure before I hand it over to Anija.” Tobirama reached over and gently ran a finger the braid he’d given Dara-chan so he could eat without getting it in his hair. “You know he’d be waiting with open arms as soon as I said ‘Hatake’ and someone has to save him from himself.”

The sound his Seedling made reminded Tobirama of a laugh and he smiled, picking up a piece of sushi that was his own dinner as he continued to read.

He was halfway through the proposal when he felt Madara’s chakra approaching at speed and stood up, mind immediately going to possible threats and problems before he realized the Uchiha was running up the side of the tower and leaping  _ through the window _ before Tobirama could really react further. “Madara? What’s-” 

Madara straightened and Tobirama saw the creature in his arms bearing his face.

“-wrong...” his voice was a little weak, surprise at the Seedling, for it could be nothing but a Seedling, Madara was holding stealing entirely too much of his breath.

He heard Dara-chan make a loud, happy trill and then he was watching his own Seedling fly up and over to perch on Madara’s shoulder and peer down at Madara’s Seedling. He watched the tiger tail flick and then the feline Seedling stretch up to touch noses with Dara-chan.

Madara was watching the Seedlings greet each other for the first time, the tiny face that mimicked his right down to the wrinkles under his eyes looking thrilled as it nuzzled the hair of his To’ra. He looked over the sleek, well conditioned wings and talons, the carefully crafted robe that covered Tobirama’s seedling, and the way the long hair was tucked into a braid. The care with which Tobirama treated the Seedling couldn’t be more obvious if it was spelled out in fire.

He turned his gaze to the man he’d fallen in love with, reading the stunned realization and faint worry in the ruby red eyes. “Nothing’s  _ wrong _ . My Seedling bloomed and Hashirama and Mito mentioned you had grown a Soul Seed just after their marriage. Before peace. Before I grew to know you as you are and not as an enemy on the battlefield.”

“Ah.” Tobirama picked up a dry calligraphy brush and ran it through his fingers absently as he studied Madara’s face. “And you are not...discomfited?”

“That you’re my soulmate? No.” He looked at his Seedling that was patting little hands on the miniature version of his face that Tobirama’s Seedling bore. “Obviously. I didn’t even pause to find something for To’ra to wear before I ran out to find you.”

Something that tasted like hope and excitement bubbled in Tobirama’s chest. “To’ra.” his lips twitched and he couldn’t keep the corners from curling up when red dusted Madara’s cheeks.

“Well he’s a tiger! And he has  _ your _ face!  _ To _ bi _ ra _ ma.” Madara spluttered.

“So he does.” A smirk spread across Tobirama’s lips and he set the brush down to walk over so he stood in front of Madara. “I don’t have any room to judge if I’m honest. Do I Dara-chan?”

Madara was about to shout something he knew would be uncomplimentary when he heard Tobirama’s Seedling make a hawk chirp and realized that ‘Dara-chan’ was the Seedling’s name. Instead of a shout, a laugh rumbled out of him. “Dara-chan, hm? Well he is a cute little sparrowhawk so I suppose ‘chan’ is acceptable.”

The laugh sent a shiver up Tobirama’s spine. It was so rich and full and  _ warm _ . He wanted to hear that laugh again and again. “And am I? Acceptable to you?”

Keeping To’ra cradled in one arm, Madara slowly reached out with his other hand, watching Tobirama’s reaction as he plucked off the happuri and tossed it onto the desk behind him. He saw the catch of breath, the way pupils tinged as red as Tobirama’s irises dilated, and the softening of sharp features as he trailed his fingers along one of the red marks on Tobirama’s cheeks. “ _ More _ than acceptable, Tobirama. As I was growing the Soul Seed, I was  _ hoping _ it would wear your face.”

“Oh,” Tobirama breathed it out on a long, half sigh. “You were interested before.” It wasn’t a question.

“Izuna gave me shit over being enamored.” Madara admitted, one corner of his mouth tilting up in a wry smile. “What about you? Do you find me  _ acceptable _ ?”

“I want you.” Bold and unapologetic, Tobirama was more than willing to admit that truth here and now. Not so much because of their Seedlings, though being soulmates was a gift he certainly would never discount, but because he knew Madara would not try to change him or make him into something other than he was. “I have for months. It’s been terribly inconvenient pining for you.”

“I’ll show you inconvenient!” Madara hooked his hand behind Tobirama’s neck and pulled him down into a laughing kiss that quickly turned heated.

It was only the protesting chirps and tiny roar from their Seedlings that got them to pull apart. Dara-chan’s feathers were ruffled and puffed up from where he was clinging to Madara’s sleeve and tiny claws were hooked into the same sleeve by To’ra and both Seedlings were glaring at them.

“Ah. I think we were crushing them.” Tobirama reached out to give Dara-chan his arm to hop up on. “I apologize little one.”

Madara watched as Tobirama brought the feathered Seedling to his face and bent his head to allow nuzzling and resettled his own Seedling in his arms, petting until To’ra began purring again. “I don’t suppose you know where I might find clothing for To’ra? He’s a bit bigger than Dara-chan.”

“I modify doll clothing for him.” Tobirama considered the office and the joining request then gave Madara a smile. Work could wait. “I know a shopkeeper who won’t mind an after hours visit.”

* * *

Months later, Madara stepped into the sunroom where Tobirama waited and paused at the sight below one of the large windows. On a little window seat Hashirama had created, To’ra was curled around Dara-chan, both Seedlings napping in the sunlight. 

He set the tea tray down and sat down beside Tobirama, smiling at their Seedlings. “They have the right idea.”

Tobirama’s lips curved as he leaned against Madara, watching To’ra and Dara-chan. “We have to finish the proposal to the Aburame before you and I can take our chance to nap together.”

“Picky little bugs.” Madara grumbled. “It’s the Hatake all over again.”

“Hardly. Kayo Obasan was difficult because she wanted to test you. The Aburame kikaichu have far more specialized needs than the Hatake wolves.” 

“Your aunt is a demon from hell. I don’t know why I half like the woman.”

“You like her because she utterly destroyed Elder Himeko’s reputation, ego, and pride in one fell swoop.” Tobirama gave his attention to the proposal they were working on.

“There is that.” Madara grinned remembering that. “Is Izuna still sneaking Dara-chan extra treats for making Elder Himeko’s life hell?”

“Not edible ones, not after Dara-chan overate and threw up on Izuna’s hair.” 

Madara laughed and settled in to work with his soulmate. It wasn’t curling up to nap just yet but he was happy as long as Tobirama was by his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took a sharp right turn from where I'd originally planned it to go and it is ALL [Kage88's](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kage88/pseuds/Kage88) fault! I mean what was I supposed to do but make an Uchiha OC for Dara-chan to torment? And things just got SILLY from there.


	8. MadaTobi, IzuTouka - sharing the same mark

Tobirama leaped over three Uchiha, rushing through the battlefield, completely ignoring Izuna and his bellowing chase as he tried desperately to get to Touka. She’d been hit by senbon and from the hitches in her motions and slowed reactions he knew there had been poison on them. She was fending off her opponents still but it wouldn’t last. He  _ had _ to get to her before she fell.

He formed a single handed seal and blew out frigid air all the way down the battlefield, summoning water at the same time to create a long path of ice. Leaping onto it he slid faster than even he could run past Uchiha and Senju alike, aware that Izuna was taking the chance of following him, until the ice ran out.

He cut past a trio of Uchiha trying to block him, not bothering to make the blows lethal so long as they were  _ out of his way _ . He was still too far when he saw her falter, saw the blade cut down at her back and knew he had to use the technique he hadn’t yet perfected.

He pulled out the specially prepared kunai and threw it as Touka rolled away from her attacker just quickly enough to keep the blow from being lethal. The kunai sank into the ground between Touka and her opponent.

The sound of breaking glass and crashing lightning drew attention all across the battlefield as Tobirama activated his new jutsu, stepping and in less than a blink he was appearing at Touka’s back, blocking the next blow, his eyes hard and violently furious. 

The Uchiha that had been coming at Touka’s back yelped and leaped back from The White Demon of the Senju. The look in those red eyes was one that would haunt his nightmares for years to come.

Tobirama sneered and called up a wave of water to force any other Uchiha attempting to approach away. Then he was crouching beside Touka as her broken armor fell away. “Touka?”

“Poison. Damn senbon. I need off this field.” Touka pulled her armor the rest of the way off and stripped away her shirt as well. “Can you patch the back wound enough for me to get the hell out?”

“Yes,” he placed a glowing green hand on the injury, eyes on the Uchiha that were around, silently daring any of them to approach. He shifted just enough when he sensed a movement over his shoulder that Touka’s back was visible, her soulmark bare to any eyes that bothered to look.

He bared his teeth at Uchiha Yashiro, ready to lash out to defend one handed.

“Ceasefire!”

Heads all over the battlefield whipped around to  _ stare _ in disbelief at Izuna, of all people, calling for that.

Izuna’s eyes were on Touka’s back, his expression that of a man who’d just received a bodyblow, his sword lowered, tip brushing the ground.

“What’s with him?” Touka hissed from between her teeth.

Izuna sucked in a breath and sheathed his sword, ignoring his brother’s bellowing, and held his hands out, empty as he approached slowly so that both Touka and Tobirama could see him. When he was close enough that even poison blurred eyes could see clearly but not close enough for his actions to be construed as a threat, Izuna reached up and unstrapped his armor then pulled down his tunic at the shoulder.

“Izuna! What do you think you’re doing you idiot?!” Madara snapped.

Touka stared at the mark on Izuna’s shoulder, a kamaitachi with sparking fur. “Oh. Well. That's...unexpected. Shit.”

Tobirama looked from the mark Izuna bore to the one on Touka’s back, the mark he knew almost as well as his own or Hashirama’s. He lifted his gaze to Izuna’s, meeting black eyes rather than the Sharingan. 

Izuna spoke clearly enough that everyone heard him. “We share a mark. Senju Touka is my soulmate.”

Tobirama heard Madara cursing fit to turn the air blue, heard his own brother exclaiming in excitement, and knew he was going to have a headache before this day was over. “The antidote.”

“Himeno!” Izuna snapped it and in a blink an Uchiha kunoichi was there, passing him a vial, eyes flicking between the marks.

Tobirama allowed Izuna to approach, taking the vial to sniff and tasting it just be be sure. At Izuna’s affronted look he snorted. “ _ You _ might not give the wrong vial but I would not put it past one or two of your clanmates, like the sneak still trying to find an opening behind me, to use the opportunity to take Touka out for good.”

Izuna’s head snapped up and he snarled at Yashiro. “I’ll cut your head off myself if you don’t  _ back off _ and  _ stand down _ .”

Tobirama cocked a brow and fed the antidote to Touka, monitoring her vital signs as she drank it and he continued to heal the wound on her back. He looked at the shared mark again and shook his head. “I should not be surprised.”

Touka gave him a weak version of her usual grin. “You know you love me.”

“Clearly I must. Why else would I not take the opportunity to pull out the thorn from my side?” Tobirama finished sealing the wound and ran his hand down her back, avoiding the mark. You never touched another’s soulmark unless they were your soulmate. 

Izuna glared at him then dipped his head to meet Touka’s eyes, his own worried. 

Touka smirked a bit. “At least I get the cute brother.”

Izuna blushed as his brother stomped over and glared down at them.

Hashirama bounded along, beaming. “Isn’t this marvelous! For Touka and Izuna to be soulmates, it’s wonderful. Even the Gods knew this was the generation for the fighting to end.”

“We’ll  _ consider _ peace,” Madara growled, “ _ after _ it’s proven that is a genuine soulmark on your cousin’s back.”

“ _ What did you just imply _ ?” Touka glared up at Madara, trying to stand but her legs still weak from the poison.

“I didn’t imply anything. I said I want proof that you’re actually my brother’s soulmate and not faking the mark because the log head is invested in peace.” Madara bared his teeth and only a fool would call it a smile.

Izuna winced, especially when several of the Senju began crying out over the insult, but didn’t argue.

Hashirama looked like he’d just been slapped. “I would  _ never _ ! Soulmates are precious! The marks are  _ sacred! _ To suggest we would falsify one-”

“-is the act of a wise leader.” Tobirama interrupted, helping Touka to get to her feet and ignoring the goggling of his clan  _ and _ the Uchiha. “Pull your head down from the clouds, Anija. People lie, for all manner of reasons, and not all hold soulmarks in high esteem. Peace talks can be considered after  _ both _ marks are verified.” He cocked a brow when that had Madara turning bright red, hands clenching in anger. He gave the man a nasty little smirk. “Not enjoying being in the same position of having your integrity called into question, Uchiha-sama?”

Madara made a sound somewhere between a growl and a hiss but didn’t otherwise respond. He turned and barked at the Uchiha forces. “Gather the wounded and head home!”

Touka leaned back against Tobirama and studied Izuna, who looked a little like he wanted to punch Tobirama then punch Madara. She tilted her head to Tobirama’s shoulder. “You’re such an asshole, Tobirama.” 

“I give as good as we get.” Tobirama murmured to her.

Hashirama, pouting mightily, gave orders for the Senju to return home as well then folded his arms and gave Madara big, betrayed puppy eyes. “Who do you suggest confirms the authenticity or the marks?”

“Yamanaka, in Nara territory.” Madara crossed his own arms, meeting the puppy eyes with a glare. “In a week so your kunoichi can recover. Himeno’s poisons take a toll.”

“Yippee.” Touka muttered then grunted when Tobirama moved her onto his back, picking up the kunai he’d thrown with the seal marker around the handle in the process.

Tobirama looked at the Uchiha brothers for a long moment, narrowing his eyes faintly at the stiffness in both of them. There was more to this than wise leadership but he knew better than to seek answers for now. Instead he leaped into the forest, smirking quietly when he heard the whining sound Izuna had made as Touka vanished from sight.

His cousin was right. He was an utter asshole.

\--------------------------

A week later Madara slammed into the main house, stomping his way to the kitchen in a foul temper.

“For someone who’s been looking for an excuse to accept the tree man’s overtures of peace for years, you’re in a really shitty mood Aniki.” Izuna swanned in after his brother and set the teapot on to heat.

“Soulmates.” Madara snarled. “The worst idea the gods ever had.”

“You don’t actually mean that.” Izuna decided to brew his brother’s favorite tea, hoping it would improve his mood.

Madara’s next snarl was wordless since he  _ couldn’t _ disagree. He’d always wanted his family, his clan, to find their soulmates even if he’d given up on it for himself.

Izuna shook his head and took out a tray of wagashi setting it down in front of his brother. “She’s beautiful, deadly, and willing to get to know me. Did you  _ see _ her arms? She could choke a man out and not break a sweat!”

“I imagine she has.” Madara picked up one of the wagashi and bit in sulkily. “She’s also clearly fond of the Demon pain in our ass.”

“Well, nobody’s perfect.” Izuna nudged his brother with a grin. “C’mon, I can live with playing fair with the Senju Demon. I get a chance at my soulmate and you get your chance at the peace you want. Isn’t that worth dealing with Senju Tobirama?”

“He’s a smart-assed little shit.” Madara grumbled. The  _ smirk _ Hashirama’s brother had been wearing when the soulmarks had been confirmed had been smug and made him want to break his teeth.

“I could have told you that. He’s been my rival since childhood, remember?” Izuna sobered a bit. “I’m not totally sold on peace even if I have a Senju soulmate, Aniki. I don’t...I  _ can’t _ really trust that they mean it not just because there’s a soul match. Soul matches have gone wrong before between rival clans.”

“Hashirama means it.” Madara insisted.

“Maybe he does but he’s not the only Senju with power. A clan head can be displaced in a coup and if that happens, we’re in trouble.” Izuna rubbed his shoulder where his soulmark sat. “I don’t want it to fail, Aniki, for the first time in years I want to hope the way you do but I want to be prepared in case it  _ does  _ go wrong.” 

Madara watched as Izuna took the pot off the heat and sprinkled in tea leaves. “You’re not wrong but, I hate the smug little bastard, I can’t see The White Demon allowing anyone to hurt his brother or your soulmate.” Especially not after the way Senju Tobirama had torn across the battlefield to get to the kunoichi. He had to admit that it had been impressive, especially that final flash forward. “Considering how fast the bastard is anyone trying for a coup would be dead before they finished raising a weapon.”

“That motherfucker. I don’t know how he keeps pulling that shit out of his sleeve but it makes me want to punch him!” Izuna flailed a hand before carrying the tea pot and cups over to the low table. “What even  _ was _ that? It wasn’t a shunshin, there was no flicker. He was in one spot then another in an instant, too fast for the Sharingan to catch. That shouldn’t be  _ possible _ !”

“Maybe he’ll tell you if peace works.”

They looked at each other for a long minute then burst out laughing. 

“Y-yeah right! What kind of shinobi gives away their secrets!” Izuna hooted.

“A dead one.” Madara was chuckling. He reached over and gripped Izuna’s shoulder. “We’ll plan in case it goes to hell but it won’t Izuna. Peace  _ has _ to work. For the sake of the future, and not only yours with your soulmate. I’m tired of burying children, Izuna, and we’re beginning to lose more and more children to illness and if we have another bad winter...this is a chance for  _ better _ .”

Izuna swallowed harshly at the reminder that their fields had yielded less and less each year. Their food stores were starting to stretch too thin in winter. Not enough to starve but come spring the most fragile of the clan were showing signs of dangerous malnutrition. He nodded, because saving the clan’s children was worth taking a risk.

\------------------------

“Repeat that.” Tobirama stared down his brother.

Hashirama squirmed a little bit under that look. He knew Tobirama had heard him the first time and was just giving him the opportunity to backtrack, the chance to avoid his little brother’s not inconsiderable temper. “The Uchiha Elders are requesting a show of good faith by having Touka and a chaperone stay with the Uchiha during the peace negotiations. Touka’s already agreed! If you’re her chaperone.”

Silence stretched between them, Tobirama’s chakra rising in the room with his anger even as the temperature dropped. “If you think for one second-”

“They have sick children!” Hashirama rushed to get it out before Tobirama could rip any reasoning for him to go to the Uchiha Clan’s home compound to pieces. “And they aren’t as skilled medically as we are so the mortality rate is so much higher.”

The tea on the desk beside Hashirama’s elbow developed a film of ice over the top before Tobirama hissed, violently. “I will make you  _ pay _ for that underhanded tactic, Anjia.” His brother knew Tobirama could never,  _ would _ never allow a child to die of illness or injury if he could prevent it, no matter  _ who _ the child’s clan was. 

Hashirama gave him a sweet, encouraging smile. “And just think, if negotiations go well we’ll be able to access the Uchiha smiths  _ and _ their trade routes to Yuki and Iron. You’ll be able to have a better lab, including that equipment you’ve been trying to get your hands on for years.”

“Make. You.  _ Pay _ . Do  _ not _ ,” Tobirama pointed one stiff finger at his brother, “sign or accept any other ‘suggestions’ or proposals without Mito’s input and approval. I  _ will _ make certain she knows to keep an eye on you.” 

Hashirama chose just to smile and nod and not tell him that Mito  _ had _ given her input and approval for this. He could handle his brother’s anger, Mito’s on the other hand was another story.

“Hmph!” Tobirama turned and stalked out of the room, calling over his shoulder, “Make certain the Uchiha know that I will be arriving with Touka and providing medical assistance.”

Hashirama blew out a relieved breath when Tobirama and the suffocating anger left his office then pulled a brush and scroll close to do exactly what his brother had suggested. Hopefully that would make things go more smoothly. Hopefully.

\--------------------------

It took a week after their arrival for Tobirama to be allowed to see any of the children. He might understand the reasoning and caution but it had  _ gnawed _ at him, sensing all the tiny flickering chakra signatures and being barred from  _ helping _ . Only knowing that he’d  _ never _ be allowed to help should he lose his temper over it had kept him from lashing out.

As soon as he was allowed to step foot into the healing hall, he went directly to the child that was worst off without any guidance or direction. He ignored the surprised murmurs of the Uchiha healers and knelt beside the child and got to work.

“How did he know?” Izuna came up to stand beside Touka.

She watched Tobirama examine the child and start asking questions of the healers. “He’s a natural sensor. He could tell you how close to death anyone in this hall is without trying, identify what any Uchiha in this compound is feeling with a little focus, and if he felt like it he could check on Hashirama while standing right here.” 

She smirked at the shocked expression that came over Izuna’s face. “Why else did you think you never got the better of him when the field of vision was obscured by the steam the two of you created during a fight? The Sharingan normally has the advantage in that situation.”

“...if I make a joke about demon spawn you’re gonna hit me aren’t you?”

“Make that joke and I’ll break your nose,” Touka confirmed.

Izuna couldn’t do anything but grin at the threat. “Fair enough.” He watched as the Senju ‘Demon’ carefully lifted the child he was tending up enough to feed them some sort of decoction then tenderly wipe dark, sweat limp hair away from the tiny face. It was a side of his rival he’d never seen, never imagined might exist, and for the first time he felt there might be some common ground between himself and Tobirama if he could be so gentle with the child of a, hopefully former, enemy.

“Are you here to help him or just watch his back?” Izuna studied his soulmate’s face.

“Both. As soon as the other healers start listening to him and stop hovering, he’ll really get moving and will need extra hands to keep things moving smoothly. There are  _ also _ more than a few people in your clan who have a special hatred for him.” She slid a look toward a window where the man who’d gone at her back on the battlefield was watching with a dark expression on his face. 

“However it falls out with you and I, Izuna, I won’t let the bitter hatred of people that cling to a bloody past destroy the chance for peace. It’s too important, not only to Hashirama but to Tobirama as well and I would die for Tobi.”

The conviction in her voice, the fierce loyalty on her face, the  _ love _ in the lovely dark eyes made Izuna’s heart tremble. What might it be to earn even a  _ fraction _ of that same emotion from this woman? It was certainly something he was willing to try for. “I’ll get some of the teenagers who are as invested in peace as Madara for helping hands.” He brushed his fingertips against Touka’s bicep then ducked out of the hall to get more helpers, taking a tiny detour to kick Yashiro’s ass away from the window.

Touka saw Izuna’s fist take a shot at the bastard glaring at Tobirama and had to smile. Hope tasted sweeter than honey.

\--------------------------------

Madara ducked into the healing hall as soon as he finished with his tasks for the day and stood for a moment watching the organized chaos within. Teenagers bouncing around with bandages, bowls of broth, cups of tea or medicine, healers carefully following some sort of written direction near a brewing station, Izuna zipping here and there doing anything needed or asked of him before going back to Senju Touka’s side to help her change bedding.

And in the center of the chaos was The White Demon, orchestrating it into some pattern that worked while tending to a little girl that was flushed with fever but smiling shyly at Tobirama. The expression Tobirama wore was soft, something that was almost a smile tilting the corners of his mouth.

The scene held him spellbound for far too long before Tobirama moved on to another child after tucking the little girl in.

Madara shook himself out of the odd moment and went to the clan’s chief healer. “How is it going?”

Jiro paused and shook his head, expression stunned. “Incredibly. He’s...we all know how skilled Senju Hashirama is with healing, the rumors of regrown limbs and immortality on the battlefield run rampant, but his brother...I’ve never seen such precision in healing.

“Most techniques rely on a healer manually manipulating things into place then stimulating the body’s natural processes. The highly skilled ones have been known to have a capability to use chakra to manipulate injuries and organs a bit more subtly and stimulate the immune system and the body’s absorption of medicine. What Senju-sama is doing...”

Another head shake and a gesture at where Tobirama knelt beside a patient, hands glowing green with iryou jutsu, one on the child’s belly and the other on the forehead. “He’s using his own chakra to destroy bacteria and viral agents while repairing damaged cells and tissues. It’s astoundingly delicate work and  _ should _ be impossible and yet...”

Madara studied Tobirama more closely and while he had no skill with healing he saw what Jiro meant. When the Senju stood up, Madara went to intercept him before he gave his attention to another patient.

It was quick, barely a flicker, but Madara caught the impatience and irritation that flashed across Tobirama’s face. Then that face settled into the cold, implacable lines he was so used to seeing on The White Demon’s face.

“Is there a problem, Uchiha-sama?” A slim white brow lifted in question.

The icy tone almost made Madara snarl, just out of habit, but he swallowed it in favor of his original purpose. “No. Where can I help?”

He had the rare pleasure of seeing Senju Tobirama caught off guard enough that it showed. Red eyes widening slightly, the tight corners of the unsmiling mouth softening a fraction, and the most miniscule hiccup in breathing were the signs that gave the man’s surprise.

It didn’t last very long and then he was being studied with suspicion for a beat or two. He couldn’t take offense. He’d never before been anything but antagonistic toward Senju Tobirama, it would be folly for him not to be suspicious of Madara.

After those quick beats, Tobirama nodded over to a station that was set up with pots. “Hikaku needs to be spelled. He has been heating the water for four hours now.”

Madara inclined his head and felt the curious gaze of Hashirama’s little brother on his back as he walked to give Hikaku a break from blowing fire for heating the water.

Tobirama brushed it off as Madara burying his personal disdain to better serve his clan then moved to his next patient, a little boy with lungs clogged by pneumonia.

\-------------------------------------

By the time dinner came around, Tobirama was incredibly tired but well on the way to being satisfied. He and the Uchiha healers had gotten the first, worst part of treatment done, he’d taught the Uchiha healers some new techniques for treating the illnesses the children had, and he’d caught Izuna pulling an angry Touka off to the side after a pair of parents had snubbed him, then Izuna had somehow made Touka laugh. It was a good sign for Touka’s future.

He cleaned up for the evening meal and went to the dining hall, where all the Uchiha but for those still ill, those tending them, guards and Uchiha members on patrol gathered to eat together like one gigantic extended family. It wasn’t something he was accustomed to. His own clan tended to eat in groups of immediate family, separate from each other but for clanwide celebrations.

It was noisy and a little chaotic, even sitting at the head table with the main family where things were less crowded. Loud and disorderly but it was...warm. Warmer than even the previous week’s meals. He found himself being glanced at several times but the looks held a kinder cast than before though he couldn’t discern why that might be. 

He settled into the place he’d been assigned between Touka and Madara and absently clocked the feel of various chakra signatures in the hall. He was aware of some new faces, including someone at the head table. Uchiha Arata, if he remembered correctly, the only remaining son of Tajima’s brother.  _ That _ Uchiha certainly wasn’t giving him  _ or _ Touka kind looks. Izuna was clearly too focused on Touka to notice the subtle glares but Madara was observant enough for both of them.

“Arata-kun, how did you find old Goro? Still taking new customers down with a look?” Madara held his cousin’s gaze for a long moment, just enough to warn him to stop displaying the blatant hostility, then flicked a look over at the server with a nod of thanks.

He listened to Arata speak about one of their grain suppliers then segue into other subjects. He didn’t realize where his cousin was verbally meandering to until it was too late to stop him from asking a question he knew was on several Uchiha minds.

“You speak of your clan members easily enough. Tell me, I’ve not seen Senju Madoka on the battlefield for some time, where is he?”

Madara watched as several of his clan tensed at the reminder of the assassin Butsuma had used. Unlike Tajima, who had created  _ squads _ of child killers so that the finger could not be pointed at any one shinobi, Butsuma had put one man on the task of killing Uchihas before they became a real threat. All the Uchiha children who had died at Senju hands, including Madara’s own little brothers, had been killed by Senju Madoka.

Izuna felt his hands curling into fists just hearing that name, the rage living in his heart wanting to snap out and destroy at the reminder. Then that rage paused at his soulmate’s voice answering Arata’s question.

“Dead. He’s been dead for eight years.” Touka took a sip of tea and noticed the way the entire hall grew quiet but her main attention was on Izuna, on his widening eyes and relaxing fists.

“How? Who killed him?” Arata asked.

“I did.” Tobirama’s voice, for all that it was quiet, was heard by the entire hall and no one said a single word, silence stretched throughout the room as though everyone had frozen in place and didn’t dare to even breathe.

Madara connected the timing, eight years, before anyone else. “Just after Hashirama became the head of the Senju Clan. On his orders?”

“No, but with his blessing. He was no more willing to allow a child murderer to remain in our clan than I was.” Tobirama’s chin angled up, he refused to feel shame at destroying a cockroach, and he held Madara’s gaze.

Soft whispers began to spread through the hall as more and more of the Uchiha realized that the Senju clan had done something they hadn’t dared to. They had never dared to kill or even banish any of the members of Tajima’s child killing squads. In fact, Yashiro, the one they  _ all _ knew had been the one to kill Butsuma’s youngest son, sat at the Elders Table, a stone’s throw away from Senju Tobirama.

“And will you demand the same of my clan?” Madara’s voice was soft, he cut a hand through the air to silence Arata.

Tobirama’s mouth tightened. “No. You ended the child hunting when you took on the mantle of Clan Head, no Senju child has been murdered by an Uchiha in eight years. It would do none of us good to demand life for life so long after the fact. In addition, a squad has a different mentality as opposed to a singular assassin. Madoka,” Tobirama paused delicately, “enjoyed what he did. I doubt most of those who followed your father’s orders to kill Senju children enjoyed it.”

Though Tobirama knew at least  _ one _ had and he fully intended to keep an eye on Yashiro.

“That’s quite a concession.”

“Not for the safety of the children who are  _ living _ .” It was a fierce declaration. “To force more loss on the living innocents in memory of the dead that can not come back would be the height of selfish cruelty.”

“So  _ you _ want peace as well? It’s not only for your cousin or Hashirama’s sake that you are supporting peace?”

“I have never opposed peace.” Tobirama raised a brow again. “I have also never been the sort to lie down and allow someone to put a kunai through me. I fought to  _ protect _ my clan, not to destroy another.” He was aware of several Sharingan having activated all over the hall, dozens of eyes gauging his veracity.

“You really mean that.” It was Arata who whispered it. 

“If I do not  _ mean _ something, I do not  _ say _ it.” Tobirama gave an indignant sniff.

Touka barked out a laugh. “Truer words have never been spoken. There’s a reason Tobi’s never been sent to deal with the Daimyo.”

The laugh and the joke broke the tension that had held the hall spellbound and soon people were eating and chattering again.

Izuna was watching Touka’s face with quiet awe. “You’re amazing. I’ll throttle anyone who tries to screw peace up and ruin my chances with you.”

Touka blinked at him then smiled, slow and sultry. “You’re really adorable.”

Tobirama merely rolled his eyes and returned to his meal, ignoring the heat of Madara’s gaze on him. It was a little harder to ignore the way Madara’s chakra kept reaching out toward him. He’d never experienced someone reaching out like that, without hostility or malice. Not even those in Tobirama’s clan reached out to him, not wanting to ‘overwhelm’ his senses, their understanding of his sensory abilities leading to stupid assumptions.

But the chakra Madara stretched out to him was warm as a fireside hearth and held only curiosity and something Tobirama couldn’t quite name but was kin to intrigue. It was...pleasant. 

And distracting, so Tobirama gave Madara’s chakra a little ‘flick’ with his own, smirking quietly behind his tea cup when that put an end to the distracting reaching.

\------------------

Izuna flopped back onto the engawa. “I meant it. I’ll kill anyone who ruins this for me. She’s so... _ damn _ .”

Madara made a sound of amusement as he stared down at his brother in the low light of the lanterns. “Even with Arata showing his ass the way he did, it was a good dinner.” He lowered himself to sit beside his brother’s prone form. “I wanted to ask if he made Madoka suffer.”

“So did I.” Izuna admitted. “I want to know that he suffered, suffered  _ a lot _ . Then that little shit had to be the bigger man. He meant it, even with Yashiro right within killing distance, he  _ meant _ it. He’ll let Yashiro and the others go unpunished for the good of the living in both clans.”

“It’s so strange. You and I both have always thought he hates the Uchiha but it’s beginning to look like that is far from the truth.” Madara’s memory of the confrontation by the Naka river had fueled that assumption but if Tobirama had been in the same position as Izuna, pressed into following by Butsuma as Izuna had been made to follow Madara by Tajima, then there would have been no way to avoid that confrontation.

“Touka said he can sense all the way to the Senju compound from here.” Izuna looked up at the wood of the overhanging roof above his head. “That it’s a natural ability and range for him.”

Madara looked at his brother sharply then murmured, “He’d have felt me at the river with Hashirama.” He thought of the little chakra poke tonight when he’d been pressing his own chakra against Tobirama’s to see what he’d do, the quick little flash of cool water against the heat of his energy. That sort of facility with chakra took years to hone so that you didn’t slap out at the wrong person or strike out too hard. “He would have known Hashirama was there with an Uchiha from the start.”

“And never gave it away until I followed you. He doesn’t hate the clan.” It was a revelation as Izuna fully accepted that Tobirama would be a full  _ ally _ in forming the peace that Madara had dreamed of for so long and Izuna had never dared hope for before now.

“We’ll speak with them tomorrow, find out who among the Senju  _ will _ be obstacles.” Madara leaned back on his hands, thinking about how Senju Tobirama had worked so hard to treat the children and how he’d looked chin lifted in pride as he admitted to killing the bastard that had slaughtered Uchiha children for years. He felt a little frisson of heat remembering the unapologetic admission and knew he was beginning to tread a dangerous line.

While he might not be willing to seek out his soulmate, Madara was aware he was in a minority. If he fell for Tobirama, it would be asking for heartbreak when the Senju went in search of his own soulmate and yet he couldn’t help but think it would be  _ worth _ it from what he’d thus far discovered of their now former enemy.

\--------------------------------

Tobirama moved smoothly through the kata atop the water of the large koi pond, that was oddly empty of fish, working through his exercise. He reached out to check on Hashirama, and was in no way surprised to find that his brother was in some sort of wild dramatics that concealed the mischievous glee underneath the histrionics. He wondered absently what the Uchiha Clan might think if they learned that Hashirama was an utter troll of the highest order.

His senses brushed against Touka, grumpy as she sat waking slowly up on the engawa of the guest quarters, and Izuna, sitting quiet and interestingly besotted nearby. Then he felt a small spark of chakra in the bushes near the pond and smiled a little. “I know you’re there. Come out from the bushes.”

He opened his eyes to see a boy of roughly nine crawl out and come to stand at the edge of the pond, Uchiha dark eyes fixed on him with curiosity and fascination. Not so much as a hint of fear.

“Hello.” Tobirama let his arms drop to his sides, hands open and relaxed, and bowed slightly. “I am Senju Tobirama.”

The boy grinned, wide and delighted, and clumsily returned the bow. “Uchiha Kagami! Is that a chakra exercise?” He gestured at Tobirama’s feet on the water.

“Yes. You’re clever to realize that.” 

“My mother showed me how to walk up trees before,” grief flickered over the boy’s face, “before she fell fighting the Hagoromo. So I figured it was like that.”

Tobirama’s heart twisted a little and he walked forward to crouch, still on the water, in front of the child. “Would you like to learn?”

Kagami’s eyes went wide. “Really?!”

Tobirama inclined his head.

“Yes! Please!” Kagami very nearly vibrated in excitement, grief and loss pushed aside in the moment.

Tobirama smiled and began to explain how water walking differed from tree climbing and took Kagami’s hands to help support the boy as he guided him through the first steps of the technique.

Madara walked out of the main house, already exasperated by the clan Elders complaints about trusting The White Demon’s word, and froze when he saw Kagami standing on the water beside Tobirama. A  _ smiling _ Tobirama.

He watched as the Senju guided Kagami through an unfamiliar kata, gently correcting the child’s stance and catching him when he began to sink below the water’s surface.

Madara was held spellbound by the scene, unable to do more than watch as the morning sun spread, bathing Tobirama in light like something out of a legend. 

He felt his brother and Touka come up beside him.

“Uh-oh.” Touka’s voice was warm and teasing. “The Tobira-sensei effect rears its head.”

“The what?” Izuna asked, curious both at the sight of Tobirama teaching Kagami and the smacked-by-a-fish expression on his brother’s face.

“The kid,” she nodded at the pond, “it was only a matter of time one of the Uchiha crumb snatchers snuck away from their minder and found their way to Tobi and asked a question. It always leads to him teaching a kid something. He has a whole herd of minions at the Senju compound.”

“He likes children?” Madara asked, watching as Tobirama actually  _ laughed _ and ruffled Kagami’s hair,

Izuna’s breath caught at the soft smile Touka directed at her cousin. 

“He loves them. Any free time he has, if he’s not in a lab, he’ll choose to spend with children. He’s even gotten me roped into teaching the ankle biters proper weapon handling. Beware,” she teased Izuna, “he’ll acquire a classroom and somehow pull you in to help instruct. Probably genjutsu since you’re so good at it.”

Madara ignored Izuna nearly dying at Touka’s attention, his own attention on Tobirama firmly yet kindly nudging a tiring Kagami back into dry land. He swore his heart literally flipped over in his chest when Kagami leaped and wrapped his arms around Tobirama’s waist in a hug and Tobirama returned the hug without even the slightest hint of self-consciousness. It made the man ridiculously beautiful.

Then Kagami was rushing off with a wave and Madara watched as Tobirama’s emotional armor fell into place again. When red eyes met his, cool and perfectly neutral, Madara was possessed with a mad desire to march forward and somehow  _ make _ Tobirama show emotion again. He didn’t, maintaining his own control as the man walked over, but he  _ wanted _ to badly enough that his fingers twitched.

This was getting complicated.

\------------------------

Tobirama found himself dragged to the Uchiha onsen by Izuna two months after the first discussion of how to handle the obstacles to peace. Two months of watching Touka falling for Izuna, getting to know his old rival and oddly becoming friends with him. 

Two months spending entirely too much time working in close quarters with Madara as he helped to hammer out plans to work around those who would fight peace, feeling the heavy heat of Madara’s chakra bump against his until it got a reaction, the irritating bastard did it on  _ purpose _ he knew it. Two months of catching Madara  _ watching _ him, of narrowly avoiding being caught watching the Uchiha Clan Head in turn, of learning that most of Madara’s bluster was to cover vulnerable emotions, of hiding laughter at the awful, morbid, cheesy sense of humor, of finding him wrapped around the little fingers of the clan’s children, of falling down the slippery slope into love and berating himself for it.

He  _ needed _ time in the damn hot spring to settle himself.

As he rinsed away soap, back to Izuna, he listened with half an ear to the other man’s thoughts on better courtship for Touka. The little madman was actually asking if Touka would like a  _ horse _ . “Is this tendency toward excess in courtship something that is typical of your clan or simply a quirk of your own personality?”

Izuna snorted, amused. “It’s an Uchiha thing. There are still stories about how my father went all the way to Yuki to get a tiger cub for my mother only for her to send him back because she was allergic to cats.” He heard a sound that was suspiciously like a snicker. “That’s a no on the horse then?”

“Touka can not ride. She thought learning to ride would be frivolous indulgence when her time would be better spent learning to fight.”

“Definitely a no. What the hell does your clan do then?” 

“Flowers and fruits of the field are common gifts of the Senju. Hashirama grew his wife a peach tree. Hanakotoba is used heavily as well.” Tobirama had to stifle another snicker at Izuna’s wail of despair. “I would suggest, rather than trying to force something you are not comfortable with, you play to your strengths. Touka is battleborn and practical.”

Izuna wrapped a towel around his hips and picked his way to the large outdoor bath. He was leaning back, face to the sky when Tobirama joined him. He heard a sigh and looked to see the Senju neck deep in the steaming water, looking a bit blissed out. “You’d think you’ve never been in an onsen before.”

“It is a rare indulgence.” Tobirama admitted with a light shrug. “I typically do not have the time available for it. Showers suffice well enough.”

Izuna shook his head. He’d already picked up on the way Tobirama seemed to work himself into the ground without taking time to rest. So had Madara and it was becoming more and more obvious that his brother was as enamoured of The White Demon as Izuna was of Touka. He wanted to meddle but wouldn’t. Madara would murder him.

“Would Touka like a new naginata or would she consider that an insult? Armor?” The Senju armors were old and did look like they needed repair or replacing in a bad way. The Uchiha were renowned for their weaponry and armor craft. It was something Izuna could give Touka, something he could devote a great deal of energy into and know he was making something worthy of her.

“Still excessive but far more appropriate.” Tobirama was smirking at Izuna and ignored the rude gesture he was given.

“You are such an ass.”

“Is that a fact, Pot?”

“Bite me, Kettle.”

“I believe I will leave that task for Touka.” Tobirama snorted at the way Izuna went glassy eyed and flushed. He was pleased, however, with Izuna’s desire to make Touka happy. His cousin deserved to be so adored.

Izuna stretched a bit and studied Tobirama. “If I ask what sort of flower to add decorative touches to the naginata and armor, are you going to be a pain in my ass?”

“Again, I will leave that to Touka.” Tobirama had to laugh at Izuna’s vivid blush, so bright it almost glowed, and sat up a bit in the water, scooping it up and pouring it over his shoulders and arms. “I will give you a list, Izuna, along with what the individual flowers mean and what the combinations would say.”

“Thank you.” That didn’t come easily to Izuna’s lips but Touka was too important  _ not _ to be grateful for help. 

“Hmm.” Tobirama stood to walk deeper into the water then jolted in surprise when Izuna yelped and flailed himself off his seat. “What in the Sage’s name?”

Izuna came spluttering to the surface, Sharingan active so that the glimpse of Tobirama’s soulmark where it sat on the Senju’s breastbone would be there for him to properly consider later. Then he shook his head like a dog, his hair whipping around heavily. “Nothing. Nothing at all.”

“You are an abysmal liar.” Tobirama folded his arms across his chest. 

“I just...that’s bold, isn’t it?” Izuna nodded, Sharingan deactivating, at Tobirama’s chest. 

Tobirama looked down at himself and lifted a brow when he understood Izuna’s meaning. “It is not as though you seeing it would cause me trouble. I have no reason to hide it when you are Touka’s soulmate.”

“Good point.” Izuna had to admit, though the white tiger in the boughs of a cherry tree left him astounded and unsure what to do. “I’m just used to everyone around me hiding theirs.”

“Why is that?” Tobirama had absolutely noticed that. 

He found himself regarded by serious black eyes, a weight and old nightmare in them that made something uneasy slither through him.

Izuna took a long breath then looked off to the side. “Madara. One of his first missions out of Hi no Kuni when he was seventeen had him with our Uncle and Arata in Kaminari. It was a long term mission. During it someone spotted Madara’s soulmark, we think in an onsen, and they copied it. A kunoichi from a bloodline hunter clan had it tattooed perfectly onto her arm then arranged for the ‘discovery’ by pretending to be knocked over by Madara in a market.”

Tobirama felt something in his belly clench, nausea rising with dread. He’d dealt with bloodline thieves before. They were unscrupulous and vile even among the looser morals of shinobi. Most bloodlines were stolen by kidnapping children to raise into the thieves' clan but a doujutsu like the Sharingan was another matter.

“He told my Uncle and Arata, of course, but they extended the mission so he could get to know his ‘soulmate’. I don’t know the details, Madara won’t share them, nor will Arata, but I do know that Uncle and Arata had to rush to save Madara, that they hurried home with Madara in bad condition, that the marks below his eyes are not wrinkles. They’re scars.” Izuna’s jaw ticked. “Since then no Uchiha reveals their mark, we always cover them no matter where we are unless we’ve found our soulmate.”

“That explains his anger when you saw Touka’s mark.” Tobirama murmured it, anger at whoever the bloodline thieves had been flowing like ice in his veins.

Izuna nodded. “He’ll never take a mark on faith, will always call for outside confirmation for any of us who find our soulmates. And he gave up the idea of his own soulmate.” 

Tobirama narrowed his eyes on Izuna. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I’ve seen the way you and my brother look at each other.” Izuna would risk Madara’s anger. “I’ve seen the hunger and want and dopey stars in  _ both _ your eyes. So you need to know, if you take a chance on him then you can’t change your mind and leave if you find your soulmate.”

Not that that would ever happen, not considering the mark Tobirama bore, identical down to the sakura petals to Madara’s but he wouldn’t give  _ that _ away.

He watched a blush flood Tobirama’s face and had to admit to surprise. His old rival had never seemed affected enough to blush, skin always that fine china shade.

“I would  _ never _ ...I am not so cruel.” It was embarrassing to know he’d been so obvious that Izuna had picked up on it. He sank back into the water, attempting to hide the bright blush with the steam. “To be frank, I rather gave up looking for my soulmate years ago.”   
  
“Seriously? Why?” Izuna frowned. He understood Madara, the trauma and betrayal but why would anyone else be willing to give up on the possibility of finding their soul’s match?

Tobirama cocked a brow. “I am an albino, called a demon. I  _ earned _ that moniker with skill and ruthlessness. Most who have faced me and survived, a very limited number, count me as the source of their nightmares. Very few would accept such a man, soulmark or no.”

“But....”

“My father killed his soulmate for producing a ‘cursed’ child, Izuna, then married a woman who left her own soulmate in favor of a political marriage. I did not spend my formative years seeing fairy tales made reality. Hashirama is a romantic and has made changes in the clan to ensure no one will have to walk away from their soulmate for the clan. But I know all too well that something as small as a superstition is more than enough for some people to repudiate their soulmate. I am not a glutton for punishment.”

“By Amaterasu’ robe your father was fucked up, Tobi.” Izuna felt  _ ill _ .

Tobirama made a soft, humorless chuckle. “That, Izuna, is the largest understatement I have heard in my life.”

Izuna shook his head and sank lower in the water, changing the subject and wondering how to spur his brother to make a move.

\-----------------------------

“Aniki?” Izuna poked his head into his brother’s study.

Madara looked up slowly. “What have you done?” Izuna was never so hesitant.

“Uhhhh nothing too awful? I maybe told Tobirama that you’re pining for him like a civilian hime for a samurai so he’d better not break your heart. That’s all bye!” Izuna ran as fast as he could before his brother could parse out what he’d said from the rapid fire spill of syllables. 

“ _ YOU DID WHAT?! IZUNA!!! _ ”

Izuna kept running even as he heard his brother bolt out after him. 

“I’M GOING TO DROWN YOU IN THE KOI POND THIS TIME!”

A breathless laugh escaped Izuna as he leaped up over a hedge that circled the guest quarters garden. He ducked under trailing wisteria, heart pounding as he narrowly avoided a kunai in the ass, and jumped onto the engawa, footsteps tapping rapidly. 

He heard Touka’s voice and grinned.

“And I don’t want him to kill my soulmate whatever Izu did. You  _ deal with it _ !” 

Izuna made it just past the shoji door as it opened and Touka shoved Tobirama out, directly into Madara’s path, sneaking a foot out to trip his brother right onto Tobirama.

Tobirama heard Izuna’s demented laugh as his back slammed hard into the engawa, his breath rushing out as the solid wall of muscle that was Madara landed on him.

Madara stared down into wide red eyes and did his best to ignore the way his body responded to being pressed against the lithe, lethal weapon that was Tobirama’s. It didn’t help that he looked incredible like this, fluffy white hair falling back from his face and resting against the dark wood, pale skin catching a faint glow from the lanterns hanging from the roof, top-heavy mouth parted slightly as he tried to catch his breath. “Fuck you’re unfair.”

“ _ What _ ?” 

“Hell with it. You can punch me if you don’t want this.” Madara lowered his head and caught Tobirama’s mouth with his, forearms braced on either side of Tobirama’s head. He heard the quick inhale, felt the air stir against his skin as Tobirama sucked it in through his nose and braced himself for the blow he was sure would come.

Only to jolt slightly when he felt Tobirama’s mouth soften against his and hands come up to fist in his hair as the other man kissed him back. The surprise faded as hunger rose and Madara groaned, sinking into the kiss.

It was slow, lips sliding together as they learned the texture and shape of each other, a liquid heat spreading from the contact through them both. 

Tobirama forgot where they were as teeth scraped and nipped his lips and he opened his mouth to welcome Madara’s tongue in. Fire was in his veins, catching him up in a private inferno. He arched against Madara and made a sound of satisfaction when he felt the hardness at Madara’s groin roll against his hip. He tightened his hands in the black silk of Madara’s hair and  _ reveled _ in the growl that rumbled out of his hopefully soon-to-be-lover.

Madara pulled back just enough to meet red eyes and nip at the full top lip. “Tease.”

“I can not be a tease if I intend to, mmm, follow through.” Tobirama smirked and lifted one leg up to hook around Madara’s hip, arching again so that Madara could feel the effect he was having on Tobirama as well.

“Smart-ass,” Madara gasped it and pressed down into Tobirama, smothering his response with his mouth. He slipped his hands down Tobirama’s sides, the fabric of his short yukata rumpling under Madara’s touch, then plucked at the tie holding it together so he could get his hands on skin.

Tobirama moaned into Madara’s mouth, wriggling a little to allow him better access. The first touch of hot hands on the skin of his waist was delicious. The calluses formed by years of wielding weapons scraped pleasantly over his sensitive skin, leaving a faint tingle behind as they explored.

Madara felt a little curl of smug pride over the noises he was getting out of Tobirama, who all too often held his tongue when not angered. Yet here he was, moaning and yes that was a mewl, under Madara’s mouth and hands. 

He stroked up Tobirama’s abdomen, enjoying the flex and shift of tightly coiled muscle, mapped out the way the skin stretched a bit too closely over  _ his _ Senju’s ribs, and slid up toward the chest, fully intending to see if Tobirama’s nipples were as responsive as the rest of him.

Tobirama was too lost in sensation, Madara’s mouth trailing away from his to bite and suck a mark onto his throat, to warn Madara in time. It was only when he felt the scrape of a thumb just above his manipura chakra that he remembered. “Madar-ah!” 

His body arched, heat and electricity sparking from where Madara’s hand had slid up over his soulmark, a feeling of  _ rightness _ and joy bubbling through his system mixing with the pleasure and building on itself until it washed over him in a shocking release that left him panting and limp.

Madara stiffened as he felt an echo of what he could see on Tobirama’s face move through him from where his hand pressed against Tobirama’s breastbone. It spread through his body, clearly less intense than what Tobirama was experiencing, and coalesced just below his navel. Right where he knew his soulmark sat.

He jerked up, pulling Tobirama’s yukata open wide and staring in disbelief at the tiger in the sakura tree on the pale chest.

He reached out, unable to help himself, and brushed his fingertips over the mark again, testing. Then he yanked his hand back when Tobirama moaned, pleasure edged with a touch of pain, and the sensation shot up his arm again.

He wanted to run. Instinctive fear from old trauma pounded in his chest,  _ demanding  _ that he run, that he protect himself but Madara’s eyes went to Tobirama’s face, taking in the glassy eyes, flushed skin, and slack mouth that panted trying to catch his breath and he found a stronger instinct held him in place. Protectiveness.

It was obvious that Tobirama hadn’t expected what had just happened. It would have been clear to a blind man. Not this powerful shinobi that guarded his vulnerabilities with icy control of his emotions and reactions. Tobirama would  _ never _ allow himself to be taken apart so completely on the  _ engawa _ of a guest house in the territory of a clan the Senju had feuded with for as long as anyone alive could remember. Where anyone nosy enough could see, where a random  _ passerby _ could see. 

Madara could not leave Tobirama here like this and call himself a man with any kind of honor.

He gathered Tobirama into his arms, careful to avoid brushing against the soulmark again, and carried him inside. He chose to sit on the couch, the absolute wrecked and now shuddering mess of Senju Tobirama in his lap, and coaxed the pale head down to his shoulder, rubbing a hand up and down Tobirama’s back over the yukata top.

Tobirama felt a little floaty and he wasn’t at all certain he liked the sensation. Though he  _ did _ like being wrapped up in Madara. Still he was not a fan of being caught off guard and that sensation...”What was that?”

Madara hummed and carded his fingers through hair the color of hoarfrost. “Did Izuna see your soulmark?”

“Why does that matter?” Tobirama closed his eyes, pressing into the petting hand. “He did but I fail to-”

“That little  _ shit _ .” Madara was going to wring Izuna’s little neck.

“Madara?” Tobirama was pulling out of his oversensitized stupor. “Would you mind explaining why Izuna seeing my soulmark has anything to do with what just happened?”

“Because Izuna knows exactly what  _ my _ soulmark looks like and would have recognized yours as its match.” Madara felt Tobirama’s breath hitch and his body tense. “The little shit set us up.”

“I...see.” He didn’t, not really. He couldn’t match up Izuna’s set up with the conversation they’d had in the onsen and make it fit. Had Izuna been warning him not to set high hopes in Madara? Why then bother facilitating them discovering their matching marks? Especially after what Tobirama had told him. Was it just to hurry it all past the inevitable end so that Izuna and Touka could cement a bond without a mess between Tobirama and Madara further along?

He needed to think, to work it out in his head. Not something he could do in Madara’s lap with cooling come in his pants.

He tried to slide off Madara’s lap but was stopped by arms winding around his waist.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Madara was watching Tobirama’s shield slowly form in front of his eyes, ice trying to take over the pretty face that was losing its flush.

“To clean up.”

“That can wait.” Somehow Madara knew that letting Tobirama slip away now would be the biggest mistake of his life.

“Madara, I have wet come in my pants. It is not a comfortable sensation.”

Madara felt his face flush and his still hard dick twitch in his own pants at Tobirama’s matter of fact admission but he held just a fraction tighter. “It can  _ wait _ . We need to talk now, before you talk yourself into some convoluted explanation that doesn’t come close to the truth and fucks everything up.”

“I beg your pardon?” Frost coated insult dripped from every perfectly enunciated word.

It made Madara grin. He couldn’t help it. “You’re brilliant, and I like that about you, but sometimes you let your brain overrule your heart.” He’d seen it happen several times during the process of working on the peace treaty and making sure it wouldn’t be ruined by those wishing to remain enemies. “So I’m not letting you go until we understand each other clearly. Whatever my brother’s scheme, he’s not you and he’s not me so whatever he’s after doesn’t matter.”

Perturbed silence met that statement.

“Tobirama?”

“Let me up, Madara. If you wish to discuss matters now you may follow me to the bathroom and speak while I clean up. I do not like feeling...I want to clean off.”

There was something in Tobirama’s voice that pinged on the protective core of who Madara was and warned him that refusing would be a very,  _ very _ foolish action. “Alright.” He allowed Tobirama to slip from his lap and followed him to the bathroom, leaning back against the wall to watch as his Senju stripped out of his clothes. The disgusted wrinkle of Tobirama’s nose at the mess in his pants was too adorable for Madara’s sanity.

But oh, his lover was gorgeous. Long and lean and sleek muscles that spoke of just how deadly Tobirama was. Though the bones were just a touch too sharp. He was definitely making sure Tobirama ate more at meals from now on.

“You wanted to talk.” Tobirama reminded him, stepping under the shower’s spray.

Madara tensed but nodded. “I didn’t want to find my soulmate.”

“I know. Izuna told me.” Tobirama soaped a cloth and began to rub away sweat and come from his skin.

“He  _ told _ you?!” Madara was absolutely going to  _ kill _ Izuna.

Tobirama flicked a look at Madara before devoting his attention to cleaning himself. He spoke in a careful monotone and related what Izuna had told him, verbatim. There was silence as he rinsed away the soap and watched water and suds disappear down the drain until it ran clear.

He stepped out of the shower and went to the towels, patting away the droplets that lingered on his skin.

Madara’s hands were clenched and he was coming up with all sorts of plans to strangle Izuna with his own hair. But Izuna wasn’t important now. What was important was Tobirama and himself. “I was very young and very stupid and she was  _ very _ good. She took on the persona of a civilian.” He smiled wryly at the surprised glance Tobirama flicked toward him. “I know. A shinobi and a civilian, a simple farmer’s daughter carrying her marketing home and I tripped over her. Stupid.” 

He shook his head. “I fell for it hook, line, and sinker. Played according to civilian courtship rules. The night I ‘met her family’ she drugged me and I woke in a sterile room rather than the farmhouse I’d fallen unconscious in. I woke and my chakra was suppressed, my body restrained, and I was surrounded by unknown shinobi and her. She was in full kunoichi gear and cuddled up to a man I’d seen lingering around the farm. It was her actual soulmate. They bragged about bagging a gullible Uchiha with such strong eyes. Then the medic they’d brought with them began the procedure to remove my eyes.”

Tobirama swallowed thickly, hands tight on the towel. “Bloodline thieves are and always have been scum of the earth.”

Madara laughed. “Oh absolutely but they’re clever scum. They got my eyes, Tobirama. Arata found me, still locked down to the surgical table, he’d grown worried when I was late. He found me, raging, empty eye sockets, blood pouring down my face, and screamed for my Uncle. They got me stabilized and tucked in with someone we could trust then went after the thieves. They didn’t know if they’d be able to get my eyes back or if they’d be unviable by the time they caught them. You can’t just pop eyes in a storage scroll.”

“No.” Tobirama murmured, turning to look at Madara. “You can’t. What happened?”

“They caught up to the medic, he still had the eyes, and the kunoichi’s father, who’d seen my mark in an onsen, and slaughtered them. She and her soulmate escaped because getting my eyes back was more important. They got me home with my eyes in time to reimplant them but I have these,” Madara tapped the deep grooves under his eyes, “you can only tell they’re scars if you’re looking. The healer was very good.”

Tobirama stepped over to him, lifting a hand but not touching.

Madara took the hand and brought it to his face, allowing cool fingers to trail soft as a whisper over the scars. He closed his eyes at the gentle touch and the scent of cool water and rosehips that seemed to cling to Tobirama. He felt no fear at the touch, nothing triggered his fight or flight. Instead trust unfurled within him and he relaxed, his hands falling to Tobirama’s bare hips, resting there.

“May I see? How it has healed?” Tobirama wanted to see that the nerves and tissues had truly healed properly but he wouldn’t do so without permission.

“Yes,” it was a soft murmur and then he felt a soothing cool chakra against his eyes, felt it slipping in and feeling his optic nerves out. “Feels different.”

“Obviously.” Tobirama drawled. “It is merely a diagnostic, not a surgical technique.”

“Pretty smart-ass.” Madara’s thumbs stroked over Tobirama’s hipbones. “You need to eat more.”

A huff. “You and Hashirama. I eat precisely what I need to maintain function.” 

“I have more than just ‘maintaining’ the minimum for function in mind, stubborn thing.”

“Hrumph.” Tobirama finished his inspection and allowed the chakra to fade so that he was just cupping Madara’s face, thumbs caressing his cheeks. “It  _ has _ healed well. Who were they?”

Madara opened his eyes. “It doesn’t matter anymore. They’ll stay in Kaminari. I just wish they could have ripped the tattoo off that bitch’s arm so she doesn’t have a trophy anymore.”

Red eyes searched black before Tobirama breathed in slowly. “What do you want to do, Madara?”

Madara looked down at Tobirama’s soulmark then back up at his face. “We’ll get them confirmed, for the clan. I felt it when I touched your mark it resonated in mine, I  _ know _ you are my soulmate. But the clan will need the confirmation.”

Tobirama nodded in understanding. “And afterward?”

Madara’s lips twisted a little. “I suppose, we’ll have to go through the usual courtship dance. But I already love you, Tobirama. I fell before I knew, before I saw this,” he lifted one hand to trail a finger around the edge of Tobirama’s soulmark. 

“We could elope.” A playful smile teased the corners of Tobirama’s lips.

“My clan and  _ yours _ would string us up for denying them the wedding.” Madara leaned up to brush his lips against Tobirama’s. “Courtship then a  _ very _ short engagement, quick wedding, and a long honeymoon. Sound good?”

“Hmm,” Tobirama kissed him again. “Acceptable with a minor addendum.”

“What’s that?” It was murmured against Tobirama’s mouth.

“I see no reason to maintain intimate distance. The courtship is only to follow the expectations of our clans, yes?”

“Halfway to follow the expectation of our clans. I’m an Uchiha, I  _ want _ to court you.”

“Gods be merciful,” Tobirama muttered it. “Very well but since it is  _ halfway _ a show for the clans, I want you in my bed at every opportunity, Madara. I see no reason to take steps  _ backward _ .”

Madara grinned and hitched his hands under Tobirama’s hips, spun him around to press him against the wall, and ground against him. “Oh I can absolutely agree to that addendum.”

“Good. Now,” Tobirama moaned whenMadara’s mouth latched onto his neck, “take me to bed.”

\------------------------------

Izuna glared at his brother across the room then looked over at Touka. “He’s ridiculous.”

Touka, in a gorgeous wedding kimono embroidered with kamaitachi, hummed in agreement. “He is but can you blame him? Tobirama was  _ supposed _ to be back in time for our wedding and the groundbreaking ceremony tomorrow.” She was a little disappointed that Tobi hadn’t returned from the mission he’d gone off on in time to see her marry Izuna but Madara was moping in a way she’d only ever seen rivaled by  _ Hashirama _ .

“Where’d he go anyway?” Izuna happily took his new wife’s hand and kissed her knuckles. 

“Mmm Kaminari. Apparently someone there stole some scrolls from Uzushio.”

Izuna froze, eyes gone wide. “Kaminari?”

“Yes. What’s that look for?” Touka lifted a brow.

“Tobi stopped by to say goodbye to Madara before he left but I saw him talking to Arata by the gates after that. Ara’s been in a weirdly good mood ever since.” Izuna glanced over at his brother again then over to where Arata was dancing with a rare petite Senju. “You mentioned something about how Tobi’s methods of courtship would differ a little from most Senju?”

Touke tilted her head but nodded. “Yeah. Hashirama is pretty much as Senju as it gets when it comes to traditions and official behaviors but Tobirama takes after his mother. She was a Hatake.”

“Hatake. The ninookami clan?” Izuna looked for confirmation.

“That’s right. They...Izu you’re looking a little manic. What is it?”

“If someone had hurt my brother and gotten away with it, someone who might call Kaminari no Kuni home, what exactly do think Tobi would do?”

Touka blinked then grinned, a slow, vicious grin that soon matched her husband’s. “Oh we need a good vantage point.”

“Fuck yes we do.” Izuna laced his fingers with hers and went to find the best possible view of his brother.

Madara twitched when Hashirama came to stand beside him, trying to coax him into joining the fun. He didn’t  _ feel  _ like joining any fun right now. Not when Tobiramam should have been back by now. He was getting worried. Even Tobirama, for all his strength and skill, could get caught off guard and run into problems. What if he had run into something that was too much for him? What if he’d run into  _ Hagoromo _ when he was exhausted and low on chakra? What if-

A commotion in the crowd pulled him out of his worry spiral and Madara stretched his senses out then straightened, head jerking up at the brush of cool chakra that belonged to only one person.

The crowd parted, and it looked like a large part of the reason for that was the blood and gore clinging to Tobirama as he walked over to Madara.

“My apologies for my delay, soulmate. It was more difficult to locate my second target than I anticipated.” 

“What are you-” Madara flailed and made an embarrassed, choking sound when Tobirama knelt in from of him and pulled a box from a storage scroll.

“You are my soulmate and your enemies are my enemies. Those who would harm you shall face my wrath should they escape yours. And those who would brag of causing you pain will  _ lose their tongue _ by my hands.”

Madara opened the box and stared at the tongue laying beside the severed arm that bore a faded tattoo of a tiger in a sakura tree. “You...”

“When a mission to Kaminari no Kuni came to my hands, I extended the visit to track down the bloodline thieves. Should I not have?” 

Madara’s eyes jerked to Tobirama and he saw worry beginning to cloud the gorgeous ruby depths. He took the box, set it down beside him, and knelt with Tobirama, reaching out to catch his face in gloved hands. “You are going to have to tell me more about Hatake courtship, you damned smart-ass.” 

He pulled his soulmate in for a kiss, ignoring Izuna and Touka’s catcalling, and the dried gore that lingered on Tobirama until his stubborn Senju relaxed. Then he pulled back, thumb rubbing along the seal tattoo on Tobirama’s cheek. “Thank you, my soulmate.”

Tobirama happily moved in for another kiss, ignoring his brother wailing about it being bad form to bring a gift of severed body parts to someone else’s wedding. He didn’t think, from Touka and Izuna’s cheers and hooting, that the bride and groom minded. Besides, he’d give them their gift later since it was because of them he and Madara had found each other. He thought they’d enjoy the litter of ninja weasels far more than some innocuous linens or stoneware.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoooooo BOY I got involved with this one! It took more than a few detours from what my original plan was but I like how it wound up. I hope y'all do as well.


	9. MadaTobi - you dream what your soulmate is doing at the time you’re sleeping

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good parent Tajima in this one.  
Butsuma remains an utter bastard.

MadaTobi - dream what your soulmate is doing at the time you’re sleeping

_ Panic pounded in his chest, his senses stretched out to the maximum in a way he’d never before experienced. He could feel even the chakra the trees gave off, feel the pulse of life in the underbrush as small prey animals ran away but it was barely background noise to the painful intensity of incredible chakra senses focused on what he was running toward. _

_ And what he was running toward made his throat tight as he pushed himself to go faster, faster,  _ ** _faster_ ** _ . Rough bark and stone bit into ungloved hands as he moved more quickly than he ever had before, ran faster than he thought  _ ** _possible_ ** _ but with every step, every heartbeat he felt it wasn’t fast enough, felt such  _ ** _fear_ ** _ that it choked him. _

_ Because he was running to save someone, someone whose fear made a mockery of his own. He could  _ ** _feel_ ** _ the terror, the dread, and the desperation of the hunted, feel as someone important, so very important to him ran for their life. And he could feel the hunters closing in on them, feel five fever hot signatures that blazed with a sickening eagerness, a joy of the hunt. _

_ He strained, body and chakra, to get there before they caught up to the frantic, terrified chakra that was flaring wildly, trying to call for help. The chakra pooled in his eyes, poured through them until blood ran down his face as he tried futilely to  _ ** _see_ ** _ , as if seeing would allow him to save them, as the too hot signatures caught up to the panicked one. _

_ Bile rose in his throat as one of those signatures grew hotter with lust, a tree branch slapped into his face, cutting his cheek but he didn’t pay attention to it, too focused on trying to get there, to save his precious one. _

_ He felt their fear and disgust coalesce and double back on itself to become determination, felt the shaking, trembling chakra and flared his own in demand to wait, a demand to stall, a demand not to do what he could feel them planning. _

_ A demand ignored. _

_ He was just close enough to hear the desperate, thin battle scream of a child too small to fight, just close enough to hear that scream cut off with a gurgle. He felt the charka wink out, ice forming in the pit of his belly. Then he was bursting into a small clearing and saw the tiny, fragile body in too big armor sprawled like a broken doll at the feet of five shinobi. _

_ “Itama!” It was a scream from a raw throat as he landed beside the body, scooping it up off bloody leaves into his arms, a clumsy, too pale hand glowing softly with flickering iryou jutsu closing over the gaping slash in the tender throat, trying to close it, trying to heal what could not be healed. _

_ You couldn’t heal the dead. _

_ But he tried, he  _ ** _tried_ ** _ . “Otouto, come back, come back, come _ ** _ back_ ** _ !” It was a screaming plea that went unanswered as his little brother stayed lifeless, the open throat slick with blood stubbornly refusing to close. _

_ He heard laughter from the five who had hunted his little brother-  _ ‘His? With that dark skin and two toned hair?’ _ -down like a rabid dog. Felt the mocking glee of his baby brother’s murderers. _

_ “Hey look. We’ve got a two for one. Two bitty baby Senju heads to take back to Tajima-sama.” _

‘Senju? What Senju?’

_ Another spate of laughter interrupted the thought and he felt unadulterated rage burn in his chest, stoked by grief. How dare they?  _ ** _How dare they?_ **

_ He lifted a bloody face to the five shinobi, five adult men with Sharingan spinning in their eyes-  _ ‘Sharingan? That wasn’t right. Shringan was safety and family, not pain and blood and grief.’ _ -laughing and mocking the death of his brother as though he were garbage. The rage roared in his ears and he gently lay his brother down, his chakra coiling within him like a great dragon before, on a scream of the fury beating in his breast, it lashed out. _

_ A single gesture, something that could barely be called a hand sign, and blood exploded out of one of the adult shinobi, pulled out of his enemy’s body by the force of his chakra. He used that blood like water to create blades that drove into another enemy’s body, cutting through the spine with a squelch and crack as the second man screamed. _

_ He cut that scream off with the sword he drew from his back, driving the blade down into the skull and twisting so his enemy’s face was sliced off.  _

_ The three remaining men weren’t laughing anymore. Now  _ ** _they_ ** _ were the ones whose hearts beat in fear as he used the blood of their fallen comrades to attack, they were the ones running for their lives, screaming about a demon, a vengeful ghost. _

_ Now  _ ** _he_ ** _ was the hunter and he was a vicious one. He pinned them down at the river, more water, more power at his disposal. He bound them in twisting ropes of liquid and snatched the eyes of one out, crushing them in his hand as the other two screamed and begged. His sword cut up through the now blinded man’s belly, spilling his viscera into the river, then he spun to the second to last, making small incisions into his veins with his blade so the blood gushed and ran the river beneath him red. _

_ A flash of chakra from the fifth man caught his attention and he moved just in time to avoid the great fireball spat at him. It consumed the one he’d been bleeding instead, agonized screams filling the air as he dropped his focus just enough that the fifth man escaped, running back across the river to the enemy’s home territory where he could not follow. _

_ He screamed out again, another roar of rage that should not be able to come from a throat so young, a sound that he hoped would follow the last of his brother’s murderers, the one that had felt the lust that had driven his brother to that final desperate action that had killed him, through the enemy’s life until he could finally kill him. _

_ He looked on the charred, sobbing form of the other man, weakly trying to crawl across the river rocks and removed his head with one, clean stroke of his sword.  _

_ Then he ran back to the clearing, the rage fading as he spied his brother’s-  _ ‘Not his. Wrong hair. Wrong age. Wrong armor. Not his.’ _ -body once more. Instead he was swamped by grief and fell, exhausted from the chakra used, eyes blurring with tears and too much chakra, beside the too tiny body. He drew the body into his arms and began to rock, began to shake as sobs tore out of him, keening out his loss to a forest gone silent in the face of the death wrought tonight. _

_ He’d been too slow, hadn’t gotten to his brother in time, and lost him. _

He tore out of the dream, a sob caught in his chest, his eyes burning with tears and Sharingan, a cold sweat slipping down his spine as the dream played in his mind. 

The grief he’d felt in that dream twisted in his belly and he scrambled out of bed, fear clutching at him, and ran to his little brother’s room, sliding open the door then slumping against it, relief pouring through him as he saw the wild spikes of black hair and sleeping face of his last brother.

Safe and sound.

“Mmm? Aniki?” Dark eyes opened blearily. “Whasit?”

“I-” He swallowed thickly and stepped in, only half closing the door behind him, to go to his brother, kneeling beside him and wrapping him up in a tight hug. 

“What? What’s going on? Madara?” 

“Just give me a minute, Izuna. Please?” Madara buried his face into Izuna’s hair, shuddering as he held his little brother.

“Okay...but...why?” Izuna’s tiny hand, paler than the one of the dead boy in the dream, reached out and pat at Madara’s back.

“I...a nightmare.”

“Must’ve been a bad nightmare.” Izuna wriggled so he could hug Madara in return.

“It was. By Amaterasu’s robe it was the worst thing I’ve ever seen.” Madara could still taste the fear and desperation to reach a brother that wasn’t his, the rage and grief of loss, and the rising  _ guilt _ of being too slow in the back of his throat. He knew loss, knew the grief of losing a brother, he’d already lost three, but this had been  _ more _ .

He knew the faces of the adult shinobi in his dream. Knew them well, had learned from them, played with their children, his distant cousins, and he couldn’t believe his mind had put their faces to such vile actions. Why would he  _ ever _ imagine them killing a child younger than Izuna and  _ laughing _ about it?

Izuna scooted closer, hearing the emotion in his brother’s voice, and held tight. He didn’t know what his big brother had dreamt but he could tell it had been awful. “Wanna sleep here for the rest of the night?”

Madara just nodded, still holding on. Then he jumped at the sound of something crashing outside the house, from the direction of the front door. It was followed by the sound of footsteps, their father running to see to whatever it was, then a clack as the front door was opened.

“Yashiro,” it was a hiss, Tajima’s voice low to keep from disturbing his sons, “what are you doing here at this hour, in that condition? You’re supposed to be out with your squad intercepting the Senju courier!”

Madara recalled Yashiro being one of the faces in his dream and nausea began to churn in his belly. He slowly let Izuna go and crept over to the crack he left in Izuna’s bedroom door to peek out. He moved slightly to allow Izuna to look with him and had to bite his tongue to keep from making a shocked sound when he saw Yashiro.

The man was covered in blood spatters, soaked to the skin with water, and shaking in terror, his Sharingan still spinning. “We were!” He didn’t keep his voice as quiet as Tajima’s. “We caught him, it was the youngest Senju heir, and killed him but before we could confiscate his package...” he shuddered, “the  _ other _ one showed up. The cursed child. Tajima, he’s a  _ demon _ . He used Hideki’s  _ blood _ for a suiton, pulled it out of him with a single handed sign!”

“Lower your voice!” Tajima hissed again. “And explain.”

Yashiro dropped his voice to a whisper, “He showed up just after we...after I cut the throat of the courier. Senju Tobirama. He already had blood on his face from some cut and...I’ll admit we went a little far, we taunted him and laughed but he looked pitiful, trying to heal the dead boy.”

Tajima’s own eyes flashed red, Sharingan blazing to life in anger. “My orders are for clean kills, Yashiro.” He grit it out between his teeth. “Not to taunt the children sent to war.”

Yashiro flinched and lowered his head. “Forgive me, Tajima-sama. I lost my head in the moment.”

Madara remembered the emotions pulsing through Yashiro’s chakra that had been in the dream he was beginning to realize hadn’t been a dream and saw the way his hands fisted behind his back despite his appearance of deference and  _ knew _ the man didn’t mean it.

Tajima’s lips tightened at the corners, deepening the grooves there. “Go on. What did the boy do?”

“That’s  _ no boy _ . He’s a White Demon. He...roared, I can’t think of any other word for it. He roared at us and used a suiton to rip Hideki’s blood from his body and turn it into blades. He used them to sever Katsuo’s spine then cut his face off, ran us down to the river and trapped us with the water. He snatched out Akihiro’s eyes and crushed them before he gutted him. He was bleeding Toshi out when I managed to cast a katon and escape.”

“You ran. From a child. He’s no older than ten. You  _ ran _ and left the others behind.” Tajima snarled it softly.

“They were already dead and I tell you, he’s no child Tajima-sama! He’s a damned demon! No human should be able to do what he did and-”

“Enough!” It was bit out, Tajima’s hand slicing through the air sharply. “You left their bodies, in  _ Senju _ territory. Unless you’re about to tell me that the boy destroyed the eyes of the others, that means Butsuma will be able to gather three sets of Sharingan to experiment on or  _ sell _ to clans like the Chinoike!”

Yashiro went sheet white. “I-”

“Spare me your excuses and go gather a retrieval squad! We will discuss your cowardice  _ later _ .”

“Yes, Tajima-sama.” Yashiro gave a short bow and rushed off to do as ordered.

Madara watched his father drag a hand over his face. 

“Damned, gutless fool. I never should have put him in charge of a squad.” Tajima’s hand dropped and he blinked when he saw his sons faces peeking from Izuna’s doorway. He spared another mental curse for Yashiro but crouched and held out his arms. “Boys, what are you doing awake?”

Izuna scampered out to jump into his father’s arms. “Aniki had a bad dream. Did Yashiro really fight a  _ demon _ ?”

“No.” Tajima ran his hand over Izuna’s hair, remembering that Senju Tobirama was close to Izuna’s age. “No, he  _ ran _ from a little boy and his own conscience.” He looked at his eldest son, the boy who had once been his middle child, and saw something close to grief and pain mingling with the same disgust he felt for Yashiro on the young face. “Madara?”

Madara padded out and went to lean his head on his father’s shoulder. “I don’t think he ran from his conscience. He’s not guilty Chichue but he  _ is _ angry that you scolded him.”

Tajima hummed and tucked Madara in close. Madara was still just short enough, just young enough to allow it when he felt unsure. “I expect you’re right. I made a mistake giving him the responsibility I did.”

“Chichue?” Madara’s hands found his father’s night robe and clenched in the soft fabric.

“What is it?”

“I didn’t have a nightmare.”

“Didn’t you?” Tajima murmured, doubtful with the way his son was clinging.

“I had a soul-vision.” Madara whimpered softly. “I saw them, I  _ felt _ them. Yashiro’s squad. They all  _ enjoyed _ hunting Itama and joked about a ‘two for one’ before...”

Tajima sucked in a hard breath, realizing that his son’s soulmate must be Senju Tobirama. He held Madara and Izuna tighter. “You felt?”

“It was like my sensing but so much  _ stronger _ . He felt their emotions, felt his little brother die.” Madara couldn’t keep tears from escaping his eyes and soaking into the fine linen of his father’s robe. “I know we’re at war but the way they...it wasn’t right.”

Izuna whined and squirmed free to hug his brother close as Tajima closed his eyes, his jaw tight.

He wrapped both arms around his sons, the precious gifts from his lost soulmate, and bowed his head over Madara’s before admitting, “No. It wasn’t right.”

Breathing in the soft scent of his children, knowing that one of Butsuma’s sons was Madara’s soulmate while the other had been a friend before Butsuma and Tajima had discovered their river meetings, Tajima knew that he could no longer run child killer squads. Not if they would one day take away Madara’s soulmate.

“Come, we’ll finish the night’s rest in my room. It’s been a difficult evening.”

\-----------------------------

_ Pain tore through him, savage and vicious, as the fist that had connected to his belly pulled back again then slammed forward into his cheek, sending him flying off his feet and crashing into the ground. _

_ “Tobi!” The voice, familiar even to the one dreaming, cried out in distress. _

_ “Get up!” It was a snarl from a voice the dreamer didn’t know but he felt the dread and loathing of the one whose eyes he saw from. Dread for the difficulty of getting to his feet with the ribs he knew were broken, loathing for the man who’d struck him. _

‘A battle? A kidnapping?’

_ He got to his feet, swaying once as the pain threatened to send him to his knees again but he couldn’t allow that. If he fell he was certain he wouldn’t get up again after the punishment that was sure to come should he dare fail to stand. _

_ “Pathetic! Weak! Slow!” The snarled words struck as sharply as the fist had. “I should have smothered you in the cradle. You will not shame me with this pitiful display, Tobirama. I allow you time for research because it’s  _ ** _useful_ ** _ but that time will end if you continue to be so weak a fighter. I have no use for a weak surety heir. You will do better or you will pay the price. Do you understand?” _

_ “I understand Chichiue-sama.” He shifted his shoulders and felt the ache from the last time he’d ‘paid the price’ for not living up to his father’s expectations. _

_ “Good. Run laps around the compound, thirty and be faster than last time. Go. Now!” _

_ With that order he was moving, pain radiating from his ribs with each shift and step, wind whipping against his face, blood from a split lip a metallic tang in his mouth. He slipped one hand into the armor he wore and warm, healing chakra pressed into his side, carefully aligning and temporarily setting the broken ribs. He couldn’t exhaust his chakra to fully heal them yet. He needed it to make the run faster than he had before. _

_ His face ached and he wondered if his cheekbone was broken too. It wouldn’t be the first time.  _

_ He lost himself to the rhythm of the run, the quick little jags of pain only reminders to push a little more chakra into his steps, to go just that much faster, until he finished the laps a single minute faster than last time. That was alright. It would be enough to avoid the usual punishment if not his father’s displeasure. _

_ He stood at attention, eyes respectfully averted, and the slap, when it came, wasn’t unexpected so he was able to keep his feet. _

_ “You can do better. I expect better tomorrow.” _

_ “Yes, Chichiue-sama.” He carefully modulated his voice so it gave the proper deference without any other emotional inflection. He wasn’t supposed to  _ ** _have_ ** _ emotions after all. He was supposed to be a tool, to be a sword for his father’s war. _

_ “Clean up. I won’t have your filth stinking up the dinner table.” _

_ Recognizing the dismissal, he bowed respectfully, despite his protesting ribs, and hurried to the bath house. _

_ As soon as he was in the privacy of the empty bath house, he dropped onto a low bench with a soft groan, panting out the pain and reaction. The hits had been harder today than usual. Something must have gone wrong with a mission. _

_ “Oh, Tobira.” That familiar voice again, soft with sorrow. “Here, let me help.” _

_ He lifted his head as his older brother, Hashirama the dreamer recognized though he’d grown out the horrible bowl cut some, knelt to help pull off the armor and dirty training clothes. “Thank you, Anija.” _

_ “Don’t thank me.” Hashirama’s voice was strained. “You’re my brother. I’m supposed to help you, supposed to protect you but I can’t even manage that.” _

_ “Anija-” _

_ “No. He’s getting worse, Tobi. This time he broke your ribs. Next time he might  _ ** _kill_ ** _ you. I don’t understand what his problem is!” _

_ A slight smile curved his lips and he laid a pale hand on the bent head, softly petting the dark hair. “You don’t understand why he has a problem with it but you know what his problem is. I’m ‘unnatural’ a cursed child, weak and too sensitive.” _

_ “You’re a wonder, Otouto. How many improvements for the clan have you come up with in the last month alone? Twenty, that’s how many. Some may be small but they make a  _ ** _difference_ ** _ . You’re the strongest out of all those our age but me, the  _ ** _fastest_ ** _ out of the entire clan! Your chakra control is unparalleled and you can manipulate your element without hand signs. It’s amazing!” Big dark brown eyes lifted, earnest and intense. _

_ “It is not enough to make up for what I was born as, Anija. Not for him.” _

_ “It’s too much, Tobira.”  _

_ Hashirama laid his hands over his ribs and he felt the healing power of mokuton surge through his bones, repairing the fractures and taking away the pain. _

_ “Too much or not, it is what it is. No one can argue against him.” _

_ “I-” _

_ “You are not old enough, Anija. The Elders will not listen to you, the clan will not defer to you. That comes with age and experience. I can take a few broken bones until you earn your stripes in their eyes.” _

_ Hashirama’s lips tightened in a bullheaded manner. “If he breaks your ribs again, Tobirama, I won’t stand for it. Not again.” _

_ “Hashirama, it is-” _

_ “No. That is my line, Tobirama. No more broken ribs or internal injuries.” _

_ “What do you intend to do? Take the blows yourself? You can not stop him without support, Anija!” _

_ “I’ll get support! I’ll get you out! I’ll write Hotaru-baa-sama!” _

_ Surprise flickered through him for a moment, followed by deep, deep affection and resignation. “The Uchiha watch the message lines. You would never get a hawk through to the Hatake.” _

_ A rush of determined chakra ruffled against his senses and those brown eyes burned bright with it. “Just you watch me.” _

Madara woke to a hand shaking his shoulder and his father’s face, a little exasperated and amused, leaning over him.

“You should stop staying up so late if you’re going to fall asleep during calligraphy lessons.”

“Chichiue...” Madara’s throat felt thick. The hand on his shoulder was gentle, the voice in his ear loving, and it hurt deep in his heart. He straightened and rubbed his hands over his face.

“A soul-vision?” Tajima frowned, worry for Madara clouding his face. “Has something happened to the Senju?”

“No. But something  _ needs _ to happen to that  _ bastard _ .” Fury rose in Madara’s chest and he dropped his hands to meet his father’s gaze, aware that his own burned with Sharingan. “Butsuma’s a fucking  _ plauge _ on the earth and needs to be eradicated. He broke Tobirama’s ribs.”

Tajima’s brows rose. “Not a training accident.”

“No. A beating for not performing to impossible standards!” Madara spat it out, surging to his feet and beginning to pace and rant out what he’d seen to his father, spewing rage, disgust, and fear for his soulmate. By the time he ran dry, he was panting, his hair wild, and his hands curled like he wanted to claw at something. 

He whirled to face his own father again, taking in the frown that spoke loudly about how he felt over Butsuma’s behavior. He froze and looked at his father. In the three years since the first soul-vision he’d had, Madara had watched his father make changes in the clan that would allow for the day Madara took over, allow for the day he went to court his soulmate, allow for the first steps to peace. He’d been witness to his father swallowing down the bitter pill of letting go of revenge, rising above the Uchiha Curse, all because  _ Madara _ had a Senju soulmate.

He’d received nothing but support from his father. Support and advice that he’d have to work at properly bonding with his soulmate as it took work to create and maintain a relationship, even that of soulmates. It was the way of the Uchiha to cherish soul-bonds and Madara had seen the proof of that in the way his father had been preparing the clan and Madara for Madara’s soulmate.

“I suppose we should arrange for the Hatake to ‘intercept’ one of our ‘intelligence reports’ on the Senju. I’ll see about getting Tsubaki’s help in creating a false report.”

Emotion swamped Madara and he stepped forward to wrap his arms around his father. Gratitude roughened his voice. “Thank you, Tou-chan.” He hadn’t called his father that in years, using the more formal term as the respect of the clan permeated their lives, but in this moment the contrast between his father and Tobirama’s so sharp, the more affectionate, childish term felt right.

Tajima knew in that moment that no matter the mistakes he’d made, and he had made  _ many _ , that he’d done right by his sons and by Amaterasu’s robe he would see to it that Madara’s soulmate survived Butsuma’s stupidity if he had to abduct the boy himself.

\--------------------------

_ The clang of steel and sound of crackling lightning assaulted his ears and before his eyes a woman with stormy gray hair and hard dark eyes stood between him and his father. A tanto glowing with lightning chakra in her hand and wolves flanking her. _

_ Butsuma was sprawled on his ass in the dirt, blood dripping from a cut high on his cheek, eyes wide on the woman. “Hotaru-sama. What is the meaning of-” _

_ “I gave my daughter to you in marriage, I tolerated the distance created by your feud with the Uchiha. I made a single demand of you, Butsuma, a single demand for the support of the Hatake should you call upon it. A single demand in return for our trade routes, our resources. Do you recall what that single demand was?” _

_ “...to cherish my wife and our children as I do myself.” _

_ “No matter what. To cherish my daughter and grandchildren as you do yourself no matter what. And  _ ** _what_ ** _ have you done to our Tobirama? And remember I can scent a lie as easily as I can track a doe.” _

_ Butsuma looked away. _

_ “I can not keep him from the Senju forever but I am taking Tobirama with me. He will train among the Hatake, learn our ways, and when he returns, Butsuma, he will be strong enough to protect himself from your foolishness. I warn you, do  _ ** _not_ ** _ think to treat Hashirama with cruelty in Tobirama’s stead.” The woman nodded at someone behind her. “My second daughter and her wolves will remain to  _ ** _ensure_ ** _ that does not happen. Should she fall, her wolves will reappear in our lands.  _ ** _Remember that_ ** _ .” _

_ The woman, his grandmother, turned to face him, sheathing the tanto between her shoulder blades. Her eyes softened, lightening from hardened slate to thunderhead gray. “Gather your necessary belongings, cub, but travel light. I’d prefer to be back over the border by morning.” _

_ He bowed. “Yes, O-baa-sama.” Then jolted at the warm, husky laugh and a hand ruffling his hair. _

_ “Oh no need to be so formal. Just call me Baa-chan. Go on then.”  _

_ A gentle nudge got him moving and he hurried to his quarters. A look around had him considering. He really didn’t have time to pack up everything. He’d have to leave almost all of his books behind. It was best to take only what the Hatake could not easily replace and what he might need on the run. His seal work tools, a few changes of clothing, jutsu notes, a few rare books he dare not leave behind, his sun oil, a little wooden figure Hashirama had created for him of them with their mother, Kawarama, and Itama, and a very plain obi stashed far back behind a drawer of his tansu.  _

_ He took a storage scroll he’d created during his research and began sealing everything into it. Before sealing the obi away, he ran the length of it through his fingers, the purplish gray cotton smooth, the faint red stitching where it had been repaired here and there catching on calluses. “Foolish,” he murmured before folding the obi back up to seal into the scroll, the symbol stitched into one end catching the dreamer’s attention. _

_ It didn’t take long before everything vital was sealed away, the scroll tucked into the inside of his tunic, his sword and small weapons pouches fixed properly in place, and he was applying seals to keep others out of his room. He turned from sealing his door and was pounced on. _

_ “You can’t stay away, you hear me brat. I need my partner in crime to keep Hashirama from doing stupid things.” Arms that shouldn’t be quite so strong for how thin they were crushed him to a girl’s chest. _

_ He curled his own arms around a skinny waist. “I will come back, Touka. When I am strong enough.” _

_ “You’d better.” The girl loosened her hold and pulled back to look down into his face. “I’ll keep the idiot in one piece for you.” _

_ “I appreciate it.” He gave her a half smile. “But you have to look after Hashirama as well as yourself.” _

_ “Oh,” she scowled at him and gave him a gentle shove, “oh you little shit. I’m not going to miss you now. Go on then, play with the puppies.” She gestured to the front door. “I’ll kick your little ass when you get back.” _

_ “I will miss you too.” He went to his tiptoes to kiss her brow, respecting her pride by not mentioning the sniffle he heard her make, and turned to go. _

_ Hashirama was waiting by the door, looking anxious. “I...I didn’t get a message off. I don’t know how,” he gestured helplessly, “but I’m glad they’re here. I’m glad you’ll be safe.” His bottom lip wibbled. “I’ll miss you.” _

_ “Do not cry, Anija. There are better ways to water the plants.” _

_ “Tobiiiiii!” Hashirama threw his arms around him and squeezed tight. “Don’t forget uuuus!” _

_ “Ugh! How could I possibly forget being smothered to death?” He rolled his eyes at the wail and the dreamer couldn’t help but snort even in his sleep. The logheaded idiot would never change would he? “Yes, yes, Anija. I will not forget you and I’ll come back. Do try to acquire some dignity in my absence.” _

_ “No promises.” Hashirama sniffled into his hair. _

_ “If you get snot in my hair, Anija, I will leave a nasty gift for you to find while I am away.” He smirked when that made Hashirama jump back but he sobered when he met the watering eyes. “Be careful, Hashirama. Listen to Touka as you would me. I do not want to return to find my brother in dire straights.” _

_ Hashirama beamed. “I love you too, Tobira. I’ll be here. You’d best go now, before Chichiue- _ ** _sama_ ** _ ,” brown eyes rolled at the honorific, “decides to make a stink again.” _

_ He nodded and stepped out, noting that it did, indeed, look as though Butsuma was about to get his courage up to cause a stink. He moved to his grandmother’s side. “I am ready O-Baa-sama.” _

_ A huff of amusement from one of the wolves and a raised brow from Hatake Hotaru. “I can see we’ve got a lot of work to do.” She pointed sharply at Butsuma. “Not a word.” Then she ruffled his hair. “Let’s go cub.” _

_ It was a relaxing run and he easily kept pace with his grandmother and the other two Hatake who had accompanied her to the Senju compound. He felt their surprise and concerned glances as he didn’t flag or slow down but they’d learn in time that his stamina for a fast run was on par, if not exceeded, with most adults. _

_ He was more focused on stretching out his senses as they approached the border the Senju shared with the Uchiha. Running along the Naka river was risky business but it was the fastest route to Hatake lands. He kept his senses extended, reaching out to even the Uchiha compound in case a patrol came out late. _

_ There the dreamer felt the brush of the cool, misty chakra and couldn’t help but react, reaching back with his own, welcoming and warm.  _

_ He staggered and then the cool chakra drew back in a little like a startled bird, leaving the dreamer bereft, but he still ran, waving away his grandmother’s concern. _

_ When dawn broke over the horizon, they were deep within Hatake territory and his grandmother called a halt on a promontory. He looked out over lush fields and thick woods where prey animals would be abundant, saw the shadows of wolves slinking around in those same woods, and breathed in the clear air. _

_ A gentle hand came to rest on his shoulder. “Welcome home, cub.” _

Madara woke with a smile, sitting up as the sun slipped into his room and over his face.

He threw on clothing and padded on silent feet out of the house to the Uchiha shrine. Under the light of the sun, the blessing of Amaterasu shining down, he lit incense and bowed in prayer. He gave his heartfelt thanks to the ancestors and their patron goddess for the safe arrival of his soulmate into hands that would properly nurture him to adulthood. He gave thanks also, for the Gods’ kindness in seeing him born to who he was.

When he finished with his prayers, he made his way back to the main house and thought of the brush of his soulmate’s cool chakra, of his reaction to Madara’s return touch. Not distaste, merely surprise and...caution. A fair enough reaction.

He thought too, of the heko obi Tobirama had hidden away and the Uchiha symbol stitched on it. An obi he had lost in the confrontation at the Naka river. A smug little smile flirted over his face. So his soulmate had a keepsake of him? That was promising if slightly worrisome considering Tobirama’s ‘foolish’ comment.

While his soulmate was off with the Hatake, he’d just have to work hard to convince the Uchiha clan to accept peace with the Senju once Butsuma was dead and gone so that there would be no outside barrier to forging a relationship with Tobirama.

\--------------------------------

_ The scenery blurred at the edges of his vision and he could feel clear across the entire territory as he ran on silent feet alongside his Aunt through the long grass. The night was cool and crisp, the whispers of autumn nipping at pale, sensitive skin, and with every footstep his heart beat a little harder with excitement and nerves.  _

_ It had been so  _ ** _long_ ** _ since he’d been home. His mother’s clan had been wonderful, had welcomed him and gave him a home but his heart belonged with the family he’d left behind and it had taken far too many years to reach a point where his grandmother, his mother’s clan, and even he felt he was strong enough to stand against his father. _

_ But he was coming home now. He would see his brother and his cousin soon. He only had to get past the patrols he could feel just to the south. Hot pulses of chakra on the other side of the river they were running on now but they were moving slowly, not aware of his or his Aunt’s presence so if they moved just a little faster they’d easily avoid that patrol. _

_ He couldn’t help the little reach of his chakra out to the compound where he felt that  _ ** _one_ ** _ signature that had touched him the last time he’d run along this river.  _

_ The dreamer felt the cool, soothing chakra brush against him and his own surged up to wrap around it, welcoming and eager.  _

_ Unlike last time, the cool chakra didn’t jerk back. It lingered, moved against the dreamer’s almost as though petting the other chakra. A long indulgence that ended all too soon as he had to give his attention to the looming gates. _

_ “TOBIRAMA!” The loud, near scream only barely preceded his brother flying out of the gates at him and throwing his arms around him in a ridiculously strong bear hug. _

_ He couldn’t quite stifle the huff of amusement as he returned the embrace. “Anija, you’ll wake the entire clan.” _

_ “So?” Hashirama laughed in delight, pulling him in closer. “I missed you, otouto.” _

_ He had to smile in return and bumped his brow against his brother’s, affection learned from his mother’s clan. “And I you, Hashirama.” _

_ “Welcome home, Tobirama.” _

_ “It’s good to be home.” _

Madara woke, moving smoothly up off his futon and out of his bedroom. He wound his way through the house to the kitchen and began to prepare some tea.

His chakra was still restless from the contact with Tobirama’s, his heart thudding a little harder knowing that his soulmate was back in Senju territory. So close. So  _ close _ . He might get to  _ see _ him, in more than dream glimpses of a mirror. And yet Butsuma still lived and his own clan was still...resistant to the concept of peace with the Senju. Stubborn asses.

“Ugh, you’re up entirely too early.” Izuna staggered into the kitchen.his own sleep.

“Tobirama is back.” Madara set out two cups and measured the leaves into the pot. 

That quickly, Izuna was fully awake, no longer tired from being up all night. “A good vision?”

Madara nodded. “Just the run back to the Senju compound and being pounced on by a happy Hashirama.”

Tension vanished from Izuna’s shoulders. “Chichiue will be glad to hear that.”

Madara hummed, thinking of his father in the healing hall. “He will, yes.” Madara poured simmering water into the pot and set the lid in place. He turned to meet his brother’s eyes, his own dark with building grief. “How was he?” Izuna had taken the night vigil so Madara could rest.

“No better.” Izuna’s lips compressed. “The fucking Hagoromo know their poisons. He’s not recovering.” Sorrow chased itself over his face. “He thought I was Hahaue a couple times.”

“Fuck.” Madara dragged a hand over his face. “We need that antidote. No word from the Shimura yet?”

“No, but they have to bargain with the Aburame to get the raw materials and then  _ we _ have to get the Nara to agree to make it. It’s taking time.” Time their father didn’t have. “Jiro gave us two weeks at best.”

“And at worst?” Madara asked.

“Three days.” Izuna walked over to the irori to add fuel to the fire. 

Madara closed his eyes, rubbing his chest over his heart. “And Yashiro is still heading the argument against a truce with the Senju and gaining  _ their _ assistance.”

“If your soulmate gets the chance to finish what he started and ends that old bastard, I’ll kiss his fucking feet.” Izuna snarled. “Butsuma isn’t trustworthy but we  _ all _ know that it’s the walking tree who is the real leader of the Senju now and he’d jump on the chance in a blink.”

“He would.” Madara poured the tea, passing a cup to Izuna. “I’m going to look in on Chichiue and let him know that Tobirama is back with the Senju. Get some sleep.” 

Izuna saluted with the tea cup as Madara walked out to the healing hall. He sent a prayer up for a miracle for their father but knew miracles weren’t handed out easily.

\-----------------------------

“Do you always allow yourself to be so distracted on patrol?” The voice was quiet, slightly husky, and sent a delicious shiver down Madara’s spine even as he leaped away from the tree the voice had come from, one hand going to a weapons pouch, eyes going to the branches to seek out the speaker.

When he found them, he lost his breath.

His soulmate, pale as the moon hanging overhead, lifted one white brow and remained crouched on the broad limb. Streaks swept over sharp cheeks, streaks that he knew were red but looked almost black in the limited light, and accented a beauty that made Madara want to thank every god and goddess in the heavens for tying his soul to.

“I..you...this is Uchiha land.” Madara flailed a little, glancing around as if expecting more of his clan to come out of the underbrush.

“Yes. That is quite frankly the  _ point _ . It would not do me any good to attempt to find you on Senju land. Relax. The nearest patrol is fifteen minutes to the west.”

“Y-you were looking for me?” Madara asked, voice strained. He took a step back toward the tree, a little gremlin of puppyish enthusiasm springing to life in his chest.

“Who else would I be seeking out on Uchiha land?” Tobirama’s expression was clearly judging Madara’s mental acuity.

“Ah...I suppose you have a point. But it’s dangerous. Even with your sensing abilities. As long as Butsuma is in charge, nominally, of the Senju and our Elders keep blocking peace it’s-”

“I am aware. I will not stay long.” Tobirama threw a bundle to Madara. “The antidote for your father. Have your chief healer be the one to test and administer it. Your other healers are...inexperienced.”

Madara looked down at the bundle, unrolling it to find the herbs needed to create the antidote to the poison killing his father as well as a serum already made. His head jerked up, eyes going to Sharingan to fully memorize the moment. “You...why?”

The top heavy, plush mouth curved faintly as Tobirama’s head tilted a bit. “I would be a very dishonorable fool to allow my soulmate’s beloved father to die when it was in my power to do something to prevent it.” The faint smile turned into a smirk. “You are not the only one who had soul-visions. Best hurry, the patrol is on the way.”

Before Madara could react, Tobirama was leaping off through the trees back to Senju land. “Oh. Oh you beautiful little shit.” He looked back down at the bundle and slowly grinned. He was going to  _ enjoy _ being able to properly court his soulmate. Perhaps Yashiro’s head on a platter would be a good first offering.


	10. HashiMitoIzuna - You see color when you see your soulmate’s eyes the first time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I blame [Kalira](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kalira/pseuds/Kalira) for this one.

The colors of fire had bloomed into his life during the confrontation at the Naka river. They’d exploded in front of his eyes the second he’d met the gaze of Madara’s younger brother. It was...confusing.

It was confusing because he’d never heard of only a  _ few _ colors becoming visible before. So of course, he did as he had become accustomed to doing in recent years. He sought his brother’s advice.

He knocked softly on the door jam in the middle of the night in case Tobirama was actually asleep but was far from surprised when he heard his little brother bidding him entry. 

Hashirama slipped in, shuffling his feet awkwardly while waiting for his brother to look up from whatever scroll he was studying. 

It didn’t take long for Tobirama’s head to come up with his brow furrowed. “Anija?”

“Have you ever heard of someone only seeing some colors and not all of them?” It came out in a rush, the words bursting out of him like a flood.

Pale lashes lowered over red eyes then lifted in a slow, considering blink. “Why do you ask?”

“Because...I can see some colors now. Like your eyes. I’ve always heard they’re red but now I can  _ see _ it. They’re a different shade from Sharingan. The persimmons growing in the garden, the inlay on Hahaue’s desk, Chichiue’s armor. I can see those colors. Red, orange, and yellow. Everything else still looks gray. That’s not normal, right? That’s really not normal. It’s weird and scary and-”

“Anija.” Tobirama’s voice was sharp, cutting through the spiral of anxiety before it could fully manifest. “It is unusual but not...unheard of.”

Hashirama practically melted where he stood. “Really, Tobi? You’re not just saying that to make me feel better?”

“Do not be foolish.” Tobirama rolled his eyes and got up from his desk to pull Hashirama to his feet briskly and pulling him to the bookshelf that dominated an entire wall of Tobirama’s room. He pulled out a scroll that had seen better days from a hiding spot behind several other scrolls stacked neatly.

Hashirama peered over his brother’s shoulder as Tobirama opened the scroll. His eyes followed the characters, absently reading as a matter of habit, then widened when he realized the scroll was an old text about soulmate phenomena. “Tobi,” his voice was awed, “how did you get this?” 

“Hotaru-Baa-sama snuck it in for me the last time she was able to visit.”

Hashirama caught the corner of his brother’s mouth curving faintly in a quiet smirk and looped an arm around the slender shoulders to give him an affectionate squeeze. Their father had banned any talk of ‘soulmate nonsense’ after their mother had died birthing Itama but Tobirama seemed to delight in working around such mandates and finding any way to subvert Butsuma’s will without drawing the Senju Chief’s ire.

“So there’s an answer in this scroll?”

“Hm.” 

Tobirama rolled to the pertinent section and Hashirama took the hint to read for himself. His heart began to beat faster as he absorbed what it said on the parchment. “That...I may have more than one soulmate?”

“Very likely. There is no way to know how many you may have, until you meet them all. At least no way yet known.” 

Hashirama rested his chin on his little brother’s shoulder, eyes on the scroll. Then he leaned his head over to press his temple against Tobirama’s jaw. “It was Madara’s little brother.” He felt the ticking of Tobirama’s jaw against his temple.

“Of course it was.” Tobirama’s voice was dry and sharp. It was a tone Hashirama had learned meant exasperation more than anger or genuine distaste. “You are going to be even more intent on creating peace between our clan and the Uchiha now.”

Hashirama grinned. “Yup. Don’t act like you don’t want it too. You’re the one always snarling about the way the adults break treaties.”

“Hmph!” Tobirama rolled the scroll back up and tucked it away in the hiding spot again. “We will need to lay the foundation for a bloodless coup if Butsuma does not fall in battle by the time you are old enough, and have enough allies, to lead.”

He wrinkled his nose. He disliked the sort of social deception that Tobirama meant and it was far from his strength. “I suppose.”

He jolted when sharp knuckles rapped on his head. “Ow! What was that for?”

“For being a bark brain. I will help, of course. You simply have to be...” Tobirama’s lips curved in fond amusement, “Hashirama.”

“I can’t be anyone else.” Hashirama rubbed the spot his brother had knocked with his knuckles.

“And  _ that _ , Anija, is precisely why you are charismatic enough to bring peace into being.” 

The support made Hashirama’s chest feel warm and he leaped to tackle Tobirama in a bear hug, ignoring the yelp and insults to his intelligence as they hit the floor. When Tobi had enough, his little brother would make that perfectly clear and wriggle free easily. For now he was going to bask in the knowledge that, despite Tobirama’s own bias against the Uchiha, his brother was willing to ensure peace was made so Hashirama could have one of his soulmates.

Soulmates. Plural. What an exciting and terrifying thought. 

Izuna clearly was a fiery spirit if the way he’d grinned while fighting Tobirama and heaped clever insults upon Tobi’s head. Hashirama wondered what the other soul, or souls, that might be waiting for them was like.

\---------------------------------

“It’s really safe for us to take this trip?” Hashirama looked over at the man his little brother had grown into, still lean but lethal as the sword he carried, standing at the bow of the ship they’d boarded nearly a week ago. He caught the twitch of irritation and knew he was wearing on Tobirama’s patience.

“Again, yes. The Uchiha will not be making any moves for at least a month. The illness that struck their compound is one that takes some time to recover from. Touka is perfectly capable of leading the clan in any other conflicts and Itama has the rest of the responsibilities well in hand.”

“I can’t help but worry.” Not only for his clan but he was also worried for the Uchiha. Worried for the soulmate he had yet to be able to converse with. The sickness that had spread among the Uchiha clan laid able bodied warriors as low as the young and infirm.

He watched Tobirama’s shoulders rise and fall as his brother heaved a breath. 

“I know. Not only is it safe to make this journey but it is  _ necessary _ . We need an alliance with the Uzumaki now that the Hagoromo broke faith with the Uchiha. Without the Uchiha keeping a leash on them they will go on a rampage. The Uzumaki are closer to the Hagoromo clan lands, we need their eyes and resources.”

Hashirama looked out at the horizon, grateful for the seal Tobirama had applied to him that blocked the horrible seasickness he was prone to when his stomach didn’t turn. “And you’re...okay with an arranged marriage? What about meeting your soulmate?”

Silence that raised the hair on the back of Hashirama’s neck greeted that question. 

“Tobi have you al-”

“I have no objection to an arranged marriage, Anija.” Tobirama’s voice cut off the next question before it could be spoken. “As for my soulmate, I do not intend to seek them out.” His tone made it perfectly clear that the subject was closed. “We are approaching the island. Best to prepare.”

Hashirama turned to watch his brother walk past, worry eating at his gut. Had Tobi already met his soulmate? Had he been rejected? The thought of that possibility had a rock settling into his belly. He’d never been blatantly rejected by Izuna, though he could tell Izuna knew they were soulmates from the insults he used against Tobirama, and he couldn’t imagine the pain that would cause.

He could only hope that when he met whoever else his soul was matched with, they would not introduce him to that sort of pain.

The ship wound through whirlpools that made him queasy even with the seal but in due time they moored at the dock and were disembarking. Flashes of red made him tense for a moment until he realized that the rich red was the hair of the Uzumaki delegation meeting them. He stared for a moment, stunned by the vibrant shades of red he’d never seen anywhere but perhaps in particularly bright flowers and the gold hair adornments holding the long hair in elegant place and dangling with seals, then snapped out of it at the sharp nudge of his brother’s chakra poking at his.

He blushed under the gaze of the Uzumaki Chief and laughed at himself. “Ah! Forgive me. I’ve never seen kanzashi seals and I thought I’d seen most of what seals can be put on with my brother’s penchant for them.”

Eyes a colorless dark gray seemed to lighten in a way that told Hashirama the Uzumaki Chief wanted to laugh in response. “That bodes well for a potential alliance. Mito-hime is the best fuinjutsu of her generation and is always willing to discuss the art with another.”

Hashirama turned his head to look at the woman the Uzumaki Chief gestured to and met her eyes. The world that had been gray with occasional pops of red, yellow, or orange was suddenly completely vibrant and bright. He could see the deep purple shade of the Uzumaki princess’ eyes, the brighter purple rhombus on her forehead, the teal of the collar of her haneri, the blue of his brother’s armor, and the brown and green of a scraggly little bonsai on the desk of the dockmaster. Suddenly cool tones and earthen shades joined the fire that had been in his eyes for years and it was...”Beautiful.”

The deep violet of the Uzumaki princess’ eyes had widened fractionally but now they narrowed, sweeping him with a look. Then she turned and murmured softly to the Chief.

Eyes that matched the princess’ went wide enough to nearly pop out and then the Uzumaki Chief laughed, a big, booming sound. “Well this is unexpected! So our Mito-hime’s soulmate is the Senju Chief.”

“One of my soulmates.” The woman spoke, perfectly composed and calm.

Hashirama didn’t look away from her, even when he heard Tobirama breath in sharply. “Yes, one of two.”

A slim red brow lifted. “And who might the other be then, Senju-sama?”

He pouted, unbecoming of a clan head but it wasn’t in his nature to be stoic unless on the battlefield. “Please use my name, Uzumaki-hime.”

Something that may have been amusement, may have been impatience, flickered over the lovely face. “Hashirama-sama then. The other?”

“We’re not...he’s an Uchiha so it’s a bit...complicated.” Hashirama’s shoulders slumped a little. 

A blink and then the controlled expression relaxed fractionally. “Yes. I would imagine it might be. Perhaps we should continue the conversation in more comfortable surroundings.” She glanced at the Uzumaki Chief, who shrugged and led the way through the market to the clan compound.

\-------------------------

Hashirama snuck out of the guest quarters, feeling restless, and slipped silently through to the zen garden. He hesitated when he spotted Mito standing at the koi pond, hair still up in the elegant buns but wearing a pale blue nagajuban that almost glowed in the moonlight.

“I presume you’re restless as well.” Her voice was softer, not as brisk as it had been throughout the discussion on their situation with the others of her clan.

It drew him closer. “Very. I can’t settle with all the new plantlife around me and everything else.”

“Finding your second of two soulmates can not make for a calm state of mind.” She turned to look at him, tilting her head faintly. “Plantlife?”

He held a hand out, palm up, and channeled just a touch of mokuton to make a little sprig of jasmine grow. He held the flower out to her. “My mokuton makes it very loud sometimes. Especially in new places where I haven’t learned the pulse and rhythms of life yet.”

She accepted the sprig, careful not to avoid touching him. “Interesting. I never gave thought to the idea of plants being vociferous.”

He chuckled. “You sound like Tobi when he was first trying to figure it out. He’s the smartest man I know. I almost want to apologize that I’m one of your soulmates and Tobi isn’t.”

“I will admit to having been excited to meet him and see if we’d suit. His reputation for innovation is impressive.” Mito spun the sprig of jasmine in her fingers lightly.

“I hope I’m not  _ too _ much of a disappointment.” He teased and saw genuine amusement fill her eyes.

“Oh,” those eyes swept him up and down before meeting his again, “I think you might just do.”

Excitement buzzed in his veins but he tried to rein himself in. “That’s a relief to me Uzumaki-hime.”

“Mmm.” Mito brushed the jasmine against her cheek lightly. “It should be. I’ll take my leave of you. Enjoy the garden.” She turned and began to walk away. She paused just at the garden gate. “Oh, Hashirama? You may call me Mito.”

Then she was gone and he couldn’t keep the thrilled whoop in his throat. He almost swore he heard a throaty chuckle under the bellows from several Uzumaki clan members to shut up.

\---------------------------------

Two weeks past their arrival on Uzu no Kuni, Hashirama found himself sharing tea with Mito in the zen garden discussing the situation with the Uchiha. 

“So you’re certain Uchiha Madara still wishes for peace?”

Hashirama nodded, drooping a little. “I know it but all the bad blood between our clans, the fact that our fathers died killing each other, his clan’s elders, and even Izuna,” the droop moved to a completely depressed slump, “even Izuna continually argues against it. They don’t trust the Senju.”

“Understandable. The Senju clan is in better standing with the Daimyo of Hi no Kuni, has more wealth, and certainly has more allies now that the Hagoromo have gone insane and broken faith.” Mito took a sip from her tea, by now used to the slumping. “So rather than barrel in holding out offers of peace scattered with white chrysanthemums and violets while the Uchiha clan is in a lesser position, it would be best to find a way to manipulate things so that they can grow a stronger base.”

“I’ve mentioned that before, our elders nearly had a fit.” He muttered it, dropping his head onto the low table.

“Then leave the elders out of it. You’re a ninja, called the very God of Shinobi. Be a sneak. Go behind your elders’ backs. Or have Tobirama do so for you.”

“He’s better at it.” Hashirama nodded, lifting his head to look at her. “You truly think if the Uchiha are in a better position they’ll be more open to peace?”

“Yes. Building peace is done either by the strong or the desperate. Peace built on desperation will not end well. So build a foundation of strength.” She reached out and smoothed his hair away from his face with a gentle hand. “Your brother will help, as will I. I will not accept our soulmate as a lost cause to us. It will simply take longer than either of us would like.”

He gave her a warm smile, brightening. “I like you very much, Mito-hime.”

“I’ve become rather fond of you as well.” Humor gleamed in her eyes. “Hence the reason I have not poked my nose into the negotiations between my father and your brother for our marriage.” Her lips twitched faintly. “He’s taking my father for all he can get and my father is far outclassed.”

“Well serves him right, he should be consulting you.” Hashirama’s expression took a turn for the wicked. “Want to teach him a lesson?”

She laughed. “How is it that you’ve managed to hide that awful troll tendency of yours well enough there are no rumors of it?”

“Tobirama manages my press.” He grinned wider when she laughed again.

“No. Tempting though it is to teach him a lesson personally, I believe that the best lesson is to leave him to his fate as Tobirama hoses him. Though I will certainly be very irritated if anyone begins planning the actual wedding without my input.”

“Open ended offer. Anytime you want to create chaos, let me know.” He reveled in her laugh, in knowing that she was as invested in getting things into a position where they could court their third. She was almost as brilliant as Tobirama. With two such minds he knew that they could make a plan to have peace sooner rather than later.

\---------------------------

“Anata?” 

Mito’s voice came softly from behind as he was removing his armor. It was soot stained and dinged and battered from the recent battle with the Uchiha. In the two years since he’d returned with Mito and their plan to see to it the Uchiha clan grew stronger had begun, it seemed as though the Uchiha were simply getting more vicious. Especially their third. 

Izuna seemed to be more full of vitriol than before, as though simple caution had turned to genuine loathing, and it carried over to Madara. To the point where Hashirama had nearly needed to enter Sage Mode in this latest fight and Tobirama had needed to utilize his new space-time jutsu to land a blow on Izuna.

Hashirama had nearly used the mokuton on his brother until he’d realized that Tobirama hadn’t struck to kill. The sword hadn’t touched anything vital, only severed the tendons of Izuna’s knee and only  _ after _ Izuna had said something Tobirama refused to relay to him. 

He scrubbed his hands over his face. “It’s not working Mito. They’re stronger but they’re only more determined to destroy the Senju now. I don’t understand.” He looked over at his wife. “I don’t get it, Mito, why does Izuna hate me? Hate us?”

“Oh, Anata.” Mito stepped in, stepped close, and pulled his face to her shoulder, pulled him to bend for her. “I do not believe he hates you or the Senju or me. Perhaps it’s simply fear. Things are changing and change brings fear and uncertainty and people lash out.”

“I’m not sure about that. Whatever he said to Tobi had to have been bad. I haven’t seen Tobi so angry since he had to rescue Itama from one of Tajima’s child-killing squads. I don’t know and I’m so  _ tired _ .”

He heard Mito tsk and allowed her to bully him to the bath house.

“Then we will get you clean so you can lay down with me and rest, Anata. We’ll take a nap then work through things when we wake, allow for things to settle a bit.”

He moved to press his brow to hers. “Thank you.”

“You’re mine. I take care of those that are mine. The Izuna and Uchiha situation can wait until later. It isn’t as though another battle will come calling in the next few hours.”

\----------------------------

Mito had spoken too soon. Barely two hours after he’d arrived home, Hashirama had needed to rush out with Tobirama to deal with a small skirmish on the border because Madara was involved. Likely trying to cross into Senju territory to gather some medicine for Izuna.

He spotted Madara through the trees and was already reaching for his mokuton to force space between his childhood friend and the Senju patrol he was fighting. Before he could, however, his brother shot ahead of him, using the same new jutsu that had allowed him to put Izuna out of commission earlier in the day to appear between Madara and the patrol. “Tobirama! No!”

Fear an acrid taste in the back of his mouth, he slammed a hand on the ground to send branches racing to prevent Madara from attacking his brother. Then he saw Madara stagger back, shock painting his face to the point that his Sharingan vanished from his eyes.

He saw Tobirama pull something, a scroll, from his weapons pouch and take advantage of Madara’s shock to throw it into his face.

“Read that! And pull your and your brother’s  _ idiotic _ heads out of your asses!” 

Hashirama goggled at the pure, vicious fury in Tobi’s voice then choked a little when his brother summoned water enough for a full size water dragon from the very air and used it and a hyouton slicking the ground behind Madara to send the man flying back over the border.

He reached Tobirama’s side just as Madara regained his senses enough to get out of the force and slide. He met the furious glare and tapped his foot on the ground, sending a gentle pulse into the earth so that a patch of healing herbs bloomed into life directly in front of Madara. “Go home to your brother, Madara. See to his injuries.”

The weariness that he still felt despite Mito’s encouragement, the heartache of Izuna’s anger and disdain, still sat heavily on him, visible to all who cared to look. And he could tell Madara was looking.

He saw his childhood friend nod faintly, snatching up the herbs and the scroll Tobirama had broken his nose with, glance at Tobi, a new scowl darkening his face when Tobirama looked away, and turn to run back to the Uchiha compound.

Hashirama waited until Madara was well out of earshot to turn to his brother. “What was that?! Have you lost your mind, Tobi?! He could have crushed you! He was-”

“Anija,” Tobirama’s voice was cold, clearly still angry at the Uchiha, “I knew exactly what I was doing.” 

“But- what was that scroll? Why’d you throw it at Madara? How did you get him off guard enough to break his nose with it?!”

“That, Anija, was the scroll on soulmate phenomena I showed you before and I threw it at him because his brother is a  _ moron _ ,” the last word came out a hiss. “And he is not much better.”

Hashirama was left in confusion as his brother took off back to their home. What  _ was _ all that about? What had Izuna said to Tobi? What had Tobi done to Madara? What was going  _ on _ ?

He needed to get home to Mito and seek her opinion. She was better with the subtleties than he was.

\------------------------------

A week after that odd encounter, Hashirama was fighting his way through clan paperwork when a golden eagle swept in through his open window, large wings disturbing the paperwork, to his very loud dismay, and talons coming to rest on the desk in front of him.

He stared at the beautiful bird for a long moment then let his eyes drop to the scroll it had deposited on his desk. A scroll sealed with the Uchiha Clan Head’s symbol.

An absent though had a branch for a perch growing out of his desk as he reached of the scroll. His fingers trembled a little as he unsealed it, hope and anxiety colliding in his chest. He unrolled it and only managed to read the first few lines.

Then he had to set the scroll aside and lower his head onto his folded arms, tears slipping out silently to soak into his sleeves. He heard the soft shush of footsteps and fabric approaching but didn’t lift his head.

“Anata what was that shout ab- Hashirama?” Mito rushed quickly to his side, her hand coming to lay softly on his shoulder. “What’s happened? Whose eagle is that?”

“Madara’s.” He lifted his head and found himself with his wife slipping into his lap, worry on her lovely face. 

“Did something happen to...an infection or-”

“No.” Hashirama’s voice was a little rough as he leaned his brow against hers. “No. It...he sent an official ceasefire and a request to meet for peace talks.”

“Oh. So these tears are happy ones?” Mito’s hands brushes softly over Hashirama’s cheeks.

He laughed and curled his arms around her. “Yes. Yes, they’re happy. I’ve wanted this for so long, Mito-hime. Even before I knew who Izuna was to me. I was beginning to think it would never happen.”

She made a soft, comforting sound, her fingers stroking through his hair. “So it would appear that he did, indeed, pull his head from his ass as Tobirama...requested.”

He laughed again, louder and with more humor than the relieved joy of before. “Apparently. I still don’t know what happened to so strike Madara that day but clearly Tobi found the right method to get through to him.”

Mito hummed and kissed his brow. “He does so hate to have his efforts go to waste and he’s kept writing and amending those treaty drafts.”

He boomed out a huge laugh and surged to his feet, ignoring her little squeak as he lifted her and spun. “We’ll have peace, Mito! We can truly get to know Izuna and court him!”

He couldn’t wait to see Izuna meet Mito and to properly meet him off a battlefield.

\----------------------------

It took too long, in Hashirama’s opinion, for a proper peace treaty to be reached. Six months before the Uchiha Elders were satisfied with the treaty, which was nothing more than a more complicated mirror of the very first one Tobirama had written. He would never understand why some people  _ insisted _ on making things complicated when simple worked so much better.

But today they were cementing the treaty, both their closest with them. Hashirama had spent the entire time Madara was making a show of reading the final version of the treaty for the Elders sneaking glances at Izuna.

Madara’s brother kept his gaze on anything but him or Mito and Hashirama wondered if Izuna didn’t agree with peace. Or perhaps he didn’t want anything to do with him and Mito? Was that why Izuna had fought so hard against peace?

The idea of it made his stomach twist. 

He was brought out of his anxious thoughts by Tobirama’s knee prodding him under the guise of his brother shifting position, pretending to fidget. He focused back on Madara as his friend signed the treaty and as soon as the ink dried held out a hand.

“It’s been a long time coming, Hashirama.”

“It has.” He clasped Madara’s hand with his, beaming then he yanked, pulling Madara in for a hug, laughing. “But we have peace now!”

“Let go of me you loghead!” 

He laughed even as he released Madara, who was ruffled and scowling. “Aww but we’re friends!”

“Anata,” Mito stepped forward, laying a hand on his sleeve, “perhaps save the hugs for another day when peace is more fully settled.”

Hashirama noticed a few tense Uchiha around and pouted a little. “As you wish, Mito-hime.”

Madara huffed. “You’re such an idiot. I’m going to let the rest of my clan know it’s signed and sealed. Izuna, stay here.”

Hashirama saw Izuna jolt a little then squirm guiltily under Madara’s gaze before nodding. What was that about? He turned to look at his own brother, looking to see if he had an answer, and got a fondly exasperated head shake.

“I will do the same for the Senju.” Tobirama moved smoothly, exiting after Madara, leaving Mito and Hashirama alone with Izuna.

He perked up like a puppy, realizing that they were giving them privacy. “Izuna-san, may we talk?”

Izuna folded his arms. “About the colors?”

“I had hoped we could...start getting to know each other. Unless...” He trailed off, not wanting to voice it, to make his fear real.

“Unless,” Mito’s voice was cool and calm, “you’ld prefer to repudiate the connection. Obviously the colors mean nothing if you loathe Hashirama and myself.”

Izuna’s head snapped to her, their eyes connecting, and he sucked in a hard breath, eyes going wide and arms dropping to brace on the treaty table.

Hashirama felt Mito’s hand clench on his sleeve and heard the breathy ‘oh’ that escaped her as she saw the entire world in full color.

“Your  _ hair _ .” Izuna’s voice was strained, his eyes locked on Mito’s hair, something like wonder on his face.

“Ah, I’ve been told it is a family trait.” Mito took a deep breath. “Hashirama has spoken of it often as well.”

“It’s beautiful.” Izuna seemed to shake himself out of his astonishment and straightened to fold his arms again.

Hashirama watched a muscle in Izuna’s jaw tick before the man took a deep breath, embarrassment washing over his face.

“I don’t loathe you. I...I’ve seen colors, browns and beiges and other neutrals since interrupting the meetings between Aniki and Hashirama-sama. I thought...I thought I only saw a few because of the enmity between clans.” Izuna’s cheeks pinkened. “I thought it interfered with forming a soul connection and that when things were...better it would be fixed. Uchiha are possessive. So when Hashirama returned from Uzu no Kuni with a wife...it pissed me off.”

“Ah.” Mito said softly, understanding clear in her voice. “You thought you’d been betrayed for a political alliance.”

“Or a pretty face.” Izuna shrugged sheepishly. “Since from what I heard it was clear he definitely liked you plenty.”

Hashirama made a strangled sound. “I would  _ never _ ...I...soul connections are  _ precious _ I-”

“I know that  _ now _ .” Izuna reached back and pulled the tail of his hair through one hand. “I can’t even be annoyed at your brother for cutting through my tendons when I called you...well let’s leave it as being very insulting. I had that coming and I wanted to crawl into a pit when Aniki brought back a bloody nose and a scroll that explained multiple soulmates along with the herbs to prevent infection.”

“Then you're willing to get to know us?” Mito stroked a hand down Hashirama’s arm. “To allow us to court?”

“ _ Yes _ .” Izuna looked relieved. “You’re not angry that I made a stupid assumption?”

“No!” Hashirama yelped it and waved a hand in the air. “Of course not! We’ve been,  _ I’ve  _ been wanting,  _ waiting _ , if I’d known you thought...please.”

“What Hashirama is attempting to say,” Mito’s tone was amused, “is that we are not angry at all and we’d be  _ delighted _ to get to know you properly, Izuna-san.”

Izuna’s grin was fierce and he relaxed where he stood. “A proper tea? Day after tomorrow?”

“Yes, please.” Hashirama found his tongue, relief and happiness making him feel a little lightheaded.

Izuna blinked and coughed to cover a snicker. “You’re growing flowers in your hair.”

Mito turned to look. “Anemones and carnations, Anata,” her tone was amused and deeply fond.

Hashirama shrugged. “It happens when I let myself slip a little. My emotions tend to show.”

Izuna’s eyes trailed over the flowers again. “Looks like I’ll have to learn hanakotoba.”

Mito offered a hand. “I’ll be happy to help with that.”

  
Hashirama just beamed, some white poppies joining the riot in his hair. Peace, his soulmates and a chance for them all to be happy  _ together _ . The only way this day could be better would be if Tobirama found his own soulmate but perhaps that would happen if the village ever came to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You don't necessarily have to meet your soulmate's eyes to see the colors, though that is usually how it happens. You just have to see their eyes.
> 
> According to the Hanakotoba wiki page:  
Anemone = Sincere  
Carnation = Fascination, Distinction, and Love  
White Poppy = Rejoice


	11. MadaTobi - the song in your head is the one your soulmate is singing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Modern' AU

Madara didn’t pay much attention to the song running through his head once he recognized it as a classic Billy Idol song. Instead he focused on fixing dinner for the assorted crumb snatchers he was looking after. His sister, two of his brothers and their soulmates bred like _ rabbits _ and since all three couples had night jobs they conscripted Madara to babysit. He didn’t really mind. He enjoyed looking after his niblings, though he could do _ without _ the last minute deposit of his best friend’s daughter because Hashirama had forgotten a date with his wife.

Tsunade was just as cute as the rest of the children he was babysitting and far more level headed than her father, thank the gods, but he was scrambling to adjust plans to include her. He did not like having to wing dinner and adjust portions on the fly. So he really didn’t need to listen to the song in his head while making those adjustments and let it fall into background noise.

He was carrying a pot of potatoes to the stove when the song caught his attention due to a slight change in lyrics and it sent him tripping over his feet, dropping the pot with a loud clang and falling forward, his face meeting the wall with a painful crack. 

“MOTHERFEATHERS!” He held his hands over his throbbing face, hearing all the children who’d been watching from the kitchen table start giggling, and blushed in embarrassment and reaction to the change in song lyrics.

He knew it was often misheard by people but Billy Idol had _ not _ sung _ ‘When I’m sad and lonely he gives me head.’ _ and under no circumstances should Madara have heard that while looking after seven children under age seven.

When he found his soulmate he was going to strangle them for it.

* * *

“Tobiiiiiii~!” 

Tobirama groaned and tried to ignore his brother’s singsong, burying his head further under the pillow. He finally had a night off from performing at the bar and he was going to take _ advantage _ of it and sleep for once. 

“Toooooobiiiiiii~!”

“Fuck off back to hell where you belong, Anija.” It was a soft mutter, impossible for his brother to hear through the closed bedroom door. He really should look into moving out of the family house and into an apartment of his own. It would cut down on his brother disturbing him.

The door creaked open and then next thing Tobirama knew he was having the air pushed out of him when a small weight was flung onto his back.

“Uncle Tobi! We’re making dinner!”

“Uhnnngh,” he groaned pitifully as his niece drummed her hands on his shoulder blades. “Tsuna-chan please get off of me.”

“You’ll go back to sleep and we’re making dinner. Specially!” The tiny hands pushed the pillow away and then she laid down on top of her uncle’s back so that her cheek was pressed against his hair and her voice was directly in his ear. “You gotta get up. Daddy invited Uncle Maddy!”

Tobirama groaned again then turned his head to glare at his giggling brother in the doorway. “Anija, you are evil and must be destroyed.”

Hashirama just grinned. “Madara babysat for us unexpectedly last night. I thought the least we could do to thank him was invite him for dinner.”

“Unexpectedly. You mean that you forgot you had planned a date with your wife and ran to him with Tsunade in a panic.” He huffed at the blush and shifty eyes that got from his brother then turned over, catching his niece before she toppled off with a shriek and rolling out of bed, Tsunade in his arms. 

“Well...it was a busy week?” Hashirama smiled at his daughter giggling in his brother’s arms. “I know you’re tired, Tobi, but you need to eat and won’t it be nice to spend the evening with Madara?”

“Oh absolutely,” he waited just long enough to see Hashirama’s expression light up a bit, “not.”

“Tobiiiiiii!” Hashirama pouted at his brother then yelped when Tobirama grabbed him by the back of his shirt and shoved him out of the doorway and down the hall, Tsunade still giggling.

“You should be assisting Mito with dinner as you were the idiot behind the additional appetite joining us.” He bullied Hashirama into the kitchen where Mito looked over her shoulder at them in amusement. “Wash dishes or chop things. I need to shower.”

“You’re so mean.” Hashirama scooped his daughter from Tobirama. “Isn’t Uncle Tobi mean, Tsuna-chan?”

“Uncle Tobi’s right! You gotta help Mama make dinner.” 

Tobirama smirked at Hashirama’s theatric gasp and clutching his chest.

“My own daughter! Turned against me! You’ve corrupted her, Otouto! I’ll turn around and she’ll pierce her nose, have tattoos, and colored streaks in her hair!”

“Nuh-uh!” Tsunade wrinkled her nose. “I can’t be a respectable doctor with a nose piercing!”

Tobirama chuckled and walked back to his room. He gathered clothes and bathing supplies and wandered to the bathroom for that shower. He paused in the middle of stripping off his sleep pants and took a look at himself in the mirror, smirking a bit so the low light glinted on the double rings that curved around the right side of his bottom lip.

He knew Hashirama didn’t really have a problem with his piercings, tattoos, or the red streaks in his hair. It had been Hashirama, after all, who had helped him put the first red streak in his hair when he’d been sixteen and sick of conforming to their father’s expectations and demands. Over the years he’d added piercings and the tattoos and revelled in how each addition felt like freedom. He knew he looked good with them as well, that the red tattoos and streaks set off his coloring and the piercings drew attention to a face he was aware people found pretty.

All in all he was happy with his appearance.

He’d probably be happier if the annoying hot bastard that was his brother’s best friend took an interest in him and his appearance. Everyone in his family knew he was attracted to Uchiha Madara and took turns either teasing him about it or playing matchmaker. He didn’t doubt the latter had a big part in why Hashirama had invited Madara to dinner on the one night Tobirama was home.

He snorted and turned from the mirror to finish stripping and step into the shower.

He was rinsing the conditioner from his hair when a song began playing in his head and his lips twitched as he recognized the old lyrics.

_ “Down in a meadow by a little bitty pool swam three little fishies and a mommy fishy too. Swim said the mommy fishy, swim if you can and they swam and they swam all over the dam.” _

Tobirama chuckled and swayed under the shower spray to the absolute earworm of the childhood song. Whoever his soulmate was, they sang a lot of children’s songs. Tobirama suspected either a kindergarten teacher, single parent, or daycare provider. Every so often Tobirama was treated to the lyrics of the latest pop sensation. One Direction had been big for a few weeks a couple years ago and these days K Pop took the lead. And once in a blue moon he’d have a rock song, usually classic rock, play out in his head.

It was pleasant and he wondered what his soulmate thought about the songs that had to run through their head more nights than not as he performed at the bar. 

The song faded from his head as he stepped out of the shower and grabbed a towel to dry off so he could get dressed and join Hashirama, Mito, and Tsunade in the kitchen. So long as no one pushed it should be a nice enough evening.

* * *

Madara walked into the Senju home without knocking. He had a key and had possessed a key to this house for years now. He was used to coming in without knocking when he was expected. Not to mention he wanted to avoid Hashirama’s cooing and enthusiastic making over the toddler in his arms at the door.

He heard voices in the kitchen and made his way there. He rounded the corner of the foyer that blocked view of the kitchen and promptly swallowed his tongue at the sight of Hashirama’s brother.

The man was wearing a close-fitting, well worn, KISS tee and jeans that might as well have been painted on, the facial piercings that had been driving Madara mad for years catching the light as he grinned at his niece. Madara wanted to sink his teeth into that full upper lip, to run his tongue along the red inked lines that disappeared under that t-shirt, to get at least one good taste of Senju Tobirama. But Madara had a soulmate out there and he didn’t feel right approaching Tobirama for anything unless or until he knew whether he and his soulmate were meant to be romantic or platonic.

It would be nice if fate would cooperate with his good intentions and either drop his soulmate in front of him or stop waving Tobirama’s sexy ass in his face. 

“To’ra!” Kagami’s loud cheer turned everyone’s head in his and Madara’s direction.

“Madara! You brought Kagami!” Hashirama clapped his hands in delight and hurried over to them, hands out to tickle Kagami’s cheeks.

Tiny hands pushed his away. “No! Want To’ra!”

Hashirama pouted, drooping dramatically. “Tobi you’re stealing all the kids’ attention.”

Tobirama smirked as he approached. “Perhaps because I do not assume permission to tickle or hug. Hello, Kagami.” He held his hands out, waiting for Kagami’s decision of whether he wanted to be touched or not.

Kagami laughed and dove forward. “To’ra!”

Madara made a strangled sound of panic as Kagami launched himself out of his arms and could only sway in relief when Tobirama’s catlike reflexes had the man catching the toddler without a hitch.

“It is good to see you too, little one.” Tobirama easily hitched Kagami onto one slim hip and inclined his head to the adult Uchiha in the room before turning around and going to help Tsunade set the table.

Madara yanked Hashirama close by his friend’s hair and hissed under his breath, “Why didn’t you tell me he was going to be here?”

“You would have said no to coming if I had!” Hashirama kept his voice to a whisper.

“Yes, yes I would have because I _ told _ you to stop trying to set us up! I should set your hair on fire you blockhead!”

“I just want the two of you happy!” Hashirama slumped in Madara’s hold. “You’d be wonderful together. I don’t see why you won’t at least try so you can have someone until one of you meets your soulmate.”

Madara glared at him. “And what happens when that day comes, Hashirama, and one of us leaves the other in favor of being with a soulmate? How will the one left behind feel? I’m not about to set myself _ or _ Tobirama up for that sort of pain.”

Hashirama winced as Madara let him go, rubbing his head where it hurt from the yank of his hair and watching as Madara joined Mito at the stove. He didn’t, not for one second, think either his brother or Madara would be so cold as to just drop a partner in favor of a suddenly found soulmate but he’d keep that to himself until Madara calmed down. It wouldn’t surprise him if Tobi and Madara were each others soulmates. He just needed to figure out a way to see if that was the case.

* * *

Madara was kicked back on his couch, blissfully enjoying a night to himself. As much as he loved his niblings, he’d needed a break from them and, miracle of miracles, Kou’s soulmate had been given a shift change so she was available to look after the hoard of spawn instead. 

He was taking advantage of the reprieve with an adult meal of beef bourguignon simmering in the kitchen, a murder mystery audiobook playing on his tablet, and a tricky crossword puzzle. It was bliss.

Which meant the interruption of his phone with Hashirama’s ringtone should have been expected.

He groaned and dropped his head back, grabbing the phone to answer. “If no one is dead, dying, or hospitalized, I don’t care.” 

“Well...I might be.” Hashirama said over the loud sounds of a bar. “My designated driver just bailed on me.”

“For fuck’s sake.” Madara made a disgusted groan. “It’s not even eight o’clock!”

“Well I’m not drunk yet, I will be but not yet. I’m making a responsible decision calling you! Aren’t you proud of me?”

“Not really. Why didn't you call your wife?” Madara was already getting off the couch and turning his tablet off. “Or your brother?”

“Mito’s out of town with Touka and the kids, some sort of Mom and baby spa thing. I forget the name, it was a complicated one. Tobi’s working tonight. C’mon, you’re my best friend ever! You won’t let me get drunk without a ride home, right?” It was a whining plea.

“Where the fuck are you, you annoying lush?” Madara turned off his stove and grabbed the keys to his car.

“At the bar on 23rd, Golden Sage Saloon.” Hashirama’s voice chirped happily now.

“Never heard of it but I’m on my way. You’d better have a root beer and potato skins ready for me damnit.” Madara grumbled as he put his shoes on and headed for his car. He bid a fond farewell to the peaceful night at home and settled into the driver seat to go save his best friend from himself.

He was almost to the location, according to his GPS, when a song rolled into his head.

_ “Victorious! Double bubble disco queen, headed to the guillotine, skin as cool as Steve McQueen, let me be your killer king.” _

It was a song he’d never heard before, inside his head or otherwise, but the cadence of the words was good and he knew he’d be googling them later to find the whole song.

It was good enough to keep him from snarling when he had to park two streets away and walk to the bar. He paid the cover and stepped into live music that was echoing the song in his head perfectly.

He immediately sought out the singer, pushing through the crowd without thought, until his eyes found the stage and his breath punched out of him.

There was Tobirama, hair styled to stand up with only a few strands falling across his right eye, eyes smudged artfully with black liner that made the red of them pop, arms with the red stripes of the tiger tattoos bared by a black and red vest held closed by lacing and metal buckles, wearing fuck-me black leather pants, painted fingers working the strings of an electric guitar, and that sinful top heavy, pierced mouth pressing close to a microphone singing out the lines Madara was hearing in his head.

“Bleed the water red. Fifty words for murder, and I’m every one of them.”

Madara whimpered when Tobirama gave a little toss of his head, the red lines that slid down his throat flexing and hair flipping.

“My touch is black and poisonous. And nothing like my punch drunk kiss. I know you need it, do you feel it. drink the water, drink the wine!”

“Mads!” 

He grunted when Hashirama practically dove onto him, forcing his eyes away from Tobirama though the music still held him stunned. 

“Thank you! I’m so lucky to have you as my friend. I’ve got your order coming.” Hashirama pulled him through the crowd to a table with a perfect view of the stage.

Madara let his friend shove him into a chair, eyes finding Tobirama and locking on him. “You never told me he performed.” His voice was rough with his astonishment.

“I didn’t?” Hashirama rested his chin on one hand. “I thought I told you Tobi sings.”

“There’s a difference between singing and performing, you log brain. I was picturing a YouTube hobby or something. This is not just singing.” Madara had to chew on his tongue as Tobirama’s hips swayed to the last strains of the song, rocking side to side, so he didn’t groan and give it away to Hashirama.

“Huh, guess I was a little thin on details. Tobi’s been heading Suiryuudan for the last four years. He did solo gigs in college and after before he met Kisame and Mei. He’s almost always playing here from eight to ten every night. He gets a night off every other Monday unless it’s a super busy month for the bar like December or March.”

That explained the nightly concert Madara had heard in his head for the last four years and the more erratic ones in the years before. Because Tobirama had started a different song, one without an instrumental intro so no one here but Tobirama would have been singing the lyrics now in his head. 

“Remember the words you told me, love me til the day I die. Surrender my everything cuz you made me believe you’re mine.”

“He’s damned good. Wouldn’t surprise me if the band was offered a recording contract soon.” Madara watched Tobirama, always hot as hell and now sex on long, long legs in that get up, work the stage and his audience like a pro. 

Hashirama grinned at the way his best friend couldn’t look away from his brother. “Probably.”

“I can _ feel _ that smug smile, Hashbrown. I _ will _ punch it off your face if you don’t wipe it off yourself.”

“You’re too busy watching my brother to punch me.” 

“I can punch you without looking.”

Hashirama did wipe the smile off his face because he knew that was nothing but the truth.

“Did your designated driver really leave you in the lurch?” Madara asked suspiciously, swallowing the saliva that pooled in his mouth when Tobirama _ rolled _ his hips in a sinful way. 

“Well...sort of.” Hashirama breathed a sigh of relief when the waitress arrive with his sake, Madara’s root beer, and potato skins. Saved by the server.

Madara decided to let it pass in favor of nibbling on the skins while drinking his fill of Tobirama performing. He really was gorgeous. He knew the moment Tobirama spotted him, met the crimson eyes and saw then widen faintly. He smirked and lifted his drink in salute, leaning back, arm hooked over the back of the chair. A silent ‘Well, go on.’ to Tobirama. To his _ soulmate _.

The challenge that lit in the red made a frisson of anticipation shoot up Madara’s spine. The next opening chords were ones he recognized and he licked his lips in anticipation, watching the delicious lips part and hearing the words slide out on two levels.

“Love is like a bomb baby come on get it on. Living like a lover with a radar phone. Lookin’ like a tramp, like a video vamp. Demolition Baby, can I be your man?”

“Oh.” Madara breathed it out because that was a question directed right at him. “Oh fuck me.”

“He’s been hoping for that for years.” Hashirama put in and yelped when Madara actually did punch him, without tearing his eyes from Tobirama and the song he was singing to Madara.

Hashirama hissed and wiggled his nose to make sure nothing was broken then used a bar napkin to clean up the bleeding.

Tobirama moved the guitar behind him and wrapped both hands around the mic, his body making a sinuous move as he poured seduction into words. “I’m hot, sticky sweet. From my head to my feet.” He licked his lips then bit his bottom before continuing with the song.

He used the mic stand as a prop, running a hand along it in a mimickry of stroking something else and watched Madara’s eyes follow the move, watched the strong column of his throat move as he swallowed. Triumph sang in his veins as he saw proof that Madara wasn’t unaffected by him.

He wrapped one leg around the mic stand and rolled his hips, eyes on Madara’s. “You got the peaches,” he gave him a wink, “I’ve got the cream. Sweet to taste, saccharine. Cuz I’m hot, say what? Sticky sweet.” He actually licked the tip of one finger and trailed it down his throat and _ thrilled _ at the way Madara’s eyes followed the movement. “From my head, my head, to my feet. Do you take sugar? One lump or two?”

He finished out the song, giddiness bubbling in his blood at the way Madara hunched in his chair and crossed an ankle over to the opposite knee to give himself room. Madara wanted him, it couldn’t have been more obvious if it had been spelled out in neon. He couldn’t wait to finish tonight’s performance and find some time alone with Madara.

By the time Hashirama was drunk and the band was packing up, Madara was almost certain he’d be popping a boner every time he thought about Tobirama for a solid week. His mouth went dry when Tobirama cut through the crowd to come stand next to the table, one arm braced on a nearby chair.

“No babysitting tonight?”

“Hikari started day shifts so she’s got the monsters tonight.” Madara cleared his throat. “I didn’t know you,” he gestured at the stage, wincing at the way it edged into flail territory. 

“Did you not? Then how did you wind up here?” Tobirama’s smile was sultry, fingers trailing over the wood of the chair back. “I did not think the Golden Sage was your sort of scene.”

“It’s not but the drunk idiot called and said his designated driver bailed.” Madara flicked a thumb at Hashirama, who was singing Show Me the Way To Go Home under his breath, complete with bums.

The brow with its piercings raised and Tobirama gave his brother a brief glare. “_ I _ am Hashirama’s DD when he comes to drink and watch me and the band.”

“Should have figured.” Madara muttered. Another matchmaking scheme. And this time it worked. 

“I am sorry Anija disturbed your free evening.” Tobirama sighed.

“I’m not.” Madara blurted out. “I mean, you’re amazing. On stage. You’re a fantastic performer.” Oh Amaterasu kill him and his awkward word vomit now.

Pleasure lit Tobirama’s eyes and his smile shifted to a soft, happy curve. “Thank you. It has been what I want since I was sixteen.”

Somehow that softer look just made Tobirama more beautiful when Madara was certain his brain cells couldn’t be more wrecked. “Guh.”

Tobirama chuckled. “I would hate for you to have driven out to ‘rescue’ Anija for nothing. Why do you not go ahead and take him home, before he gets the bar reenacting JAWS, and I will follow in the van. I will pour you a nightcap after we pour Hashirama into his bed.”

Madara just nodded in agreement and grabbed Hashirama’s wallet to pay off the tab, glancing over as Tobirama walked over to join his bandmates in carrying their gear out. His eyes dropped to an ass that would make the gods weep in envy, lovingly encased in leather, and he made a groaning whimper. He was going to _ die _ from Tobirama’s devastating sexiness but what a way to go.

* * *

It took both of them to pry Hashirama off of Madara and into the idiot’s bed to sleep off the drunk but after thirty minutes of struggling they managed and Madara was following that excellent leather clad ass to the family room.

“Fuck but he’s a pain when he’s drunk.” Madara leaned against a wall.

“Hashirama has always been a clingy drunk. I think Mito is the only one who finds it charming since he rarely gets this polluted.” Tobirama went to a sideboard and pulled out a bottle of Kiri Whiskey, pouring a small glass on the rocks for Madara.

“I went to college with him. I am aware.” Madara accepted the glass and took a sip, letting the flavor and burn soothe away the stress of dealing with a drunk Hashirama. Then he looked at Tobirama, still standing in front of him. “So.”

A slow smile curved pale pink lips. “So,” Tobirama moved closer so that he was barely an inch away from pressing Madara into the wall.

“Ah, there’s something I should- damnit do you know how you _ look _ like this?” Madara’s throat clicked, eyes fixing on Tobirama’s lips.

“Do tell,” Tobirama purred.

“Damnit Tobirama, you look like sex on legs and you’re destroying my brain.”

The nigh feral grin that stretched that ridiculously sexy mouth should _ not _ have been so hot. Madara tried to scramble a coherent thought together but then Tobirama’s head was dipping, his body pressing into Madara’s, his hand easing the drink from his hand to set it on a nearby shelf, and that mouth pressed to his, obliterating the tiniest thought beyond kissing and getting his _ hands _ on the long, lean body from Madara’s brain.

He groaned and slid one hand up into the streaked hair that had fallen down with the exertion of a night under stage lights, the other pressed into the dip of Tobirama’s spine, heat flashing through his veins as metal and soft lips moved against his.

Tobirama made a purr in the back of his throat and sank his hands in Madara’s hair, a long held fantasy that was more perfect than he’d imagined. Teeth nipped at his top lip and a tongue flicked over the piercings in his bottom lip. He opened his mouth on a soft moan and met that questing tongue, sweeping out and into Madara’s mouth to devour every little taste he could get. 

A soft whine broke from Madara as Tobirama pulled on his hair and it was like it was directly tied to his dick, the unruly flesh hardening and stealing blood needed to run what little brainpower he retained with Tobirama kissing him like this.

The hand on Tobirama’s spine slipped down and cupped that _ perfect _ ass, squeezing through the leather.

Tobirama groaned and broke the kiss to kiss and suck along Madara’s jaw. “Madara...come to my room. I want...I need you.”

Madara panted, his head tilting back, mind spinning. “Fuck, Tobirama.”

“That is the _ idea _.” Tobirama drew the lobe of Madara’s ear through his teeth. 

“Just,” it took more willpower than he knew he had but Madara managed to get enough control to say, “wait. Just a...I had something to tell you.”

“It can wait. Please, Madara. I have wanted you in my bed since I graduated.” Tobirama pressed his hips against Madara’s, rolling so Madara could feel how hard he was in his pants.

“Mother of the Sun save me. Just,” Madara’s hands went to Tobirama’s hips and gropped them tight, stopping him from grinding anymore, “this is _ important, _ Tobirama. After, if you still want, I’ll _ eagerly _ go to bed with you.”

Tobirama actually whined and dropped his head onto Madara’s shoulder. “Damn it. I’ve wanted you too long for anything you have to say to change that.” He breathed in the scent of wood smoke and spice that always seemed to cling to Madara. “Tell me, before I send us both to a cold shower and suffering.”

Madara rubbed a hand up and down Tobirama’s spine in a comforting stroke and tried to figure out the best way to tell Tobirama they were soulmates. The he decided the best way was to sing something. He blamed his niblings for what immediately came to mind but once he opened his mouth it just came out and couldn’t be recalled.

“Up is down, day is night, when you're not there. Oh, you're my only landmark, so I'm lost in the woods, wondering if you still care. But I'll wait for a sign that I'm your path 'cause you are mine. Until then, I'm lost in the woods.”

Tobirama’s head jerked up at the stereo echo of Madara’s exact words in his head and he looked wide eyed into Madara’s face. “We...”

“Are soulmates. Yeah. It slapped me in the ass when I stepped into the bar and you were there, singing the song in my head.” Madara smiled a little bit. “I never made a move on you before because I didn’t want to start a serious relationship while I hadn’t met my soulmate. I didn’t want either of us to risk the kind of hurt that could bring.”

Tobirama’s heart thudded heavily at the implication. “Serious relationship?”

“Of fucking course. Any relationship I had with you would _ always _ be serious Tobirama.” He scowled up at his soulmate. “Completely beside the fact that you’re my best friend’s brother, you deserve more than a gods be damned fling.”

Tobirama dipped his head again, this time resting his forehead against Madara’s, eyes closed, and gave one long shudder. “I have wanted that, wanted _ you, _ for so _ long _, Madara. But you never seemed to look at me the way I wanted you to. I...would have been happy with a fling. To have more...I never dreamed of it.”

“I looked, believe me Tobirama, I looked. I just made sure you never noticed me looking. Despite Hashirama _ and _ my siblings attempts at meddling. So you have more, have as much as you want of me, in bed and out.” His arms came around his soulmate comfortingly. 

“Careful, I will ask for everything and give all in return.”

“Why would I want to be careful then?” Madara smirked slightly and tilted his chin up so his lips pressed to Tobirama’s, body warmed metal pressing against his skin. He met red eyes when they flew open, confidence and contentment in his own. 

That look assured Tobirama that Madara _ meant _ it and wasn’t just riding on lust and soulmate discovery. He gripped Madara’s hair again and took his mouth in another deep kiss. “Bed?”

“I’m all yours.” Madara nipped at Tobirama’s top lip again then nibbled his way to the delicious tattooed neck. “I think now is the perfect time to mention I’ve always wanted to lick my way along your tattoos and see if you’re pierced anywhere else.”

Tobirama growled and began pulling Madara with him to his bedroom. “Oh you will have _ plenty _ to discover, Madara.”

Damn, he was whimpering again but at least now he would be able to _ do _ something about the desire gripping him like a vice. He couldn’t wait to see where else Tobirama wore metal on his body.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has a follow up now.
> 
> [Let's Make Music Together](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24332836)


	12. SakuOro - what your soulmate calls you most often is on your wrist

Pale, slender fingers moved smoothly through a dark fall of hair, deftly separating it into sections and twisting them together. As the braid was completed and tied off, golden eyes caught on the dark strokes of the writing on his exposed wrist. 

Orochimaru moved his hand palm up and studied the faintly messy lines that stood out starkly on his skin. His soulmark had always been...curious throughout his life. One of his earliest memories was of the matron at the orphanage sneering down at the kanji and scoffing before decrying whoever his soulmate might be as a fool. A few of the other children had glimpsed it and tried to use it to mock him initially before he'd turned the tables on them by choosing to embody, as much as a child could, the aesthetic. Afterward he'd taken to covering his mark with bandages until he could afford a leather band for his wrist. Not so much to protect himself as to protect his unknown soulmate from ridicule.

Even as a child that had been unusual for him. He hadn’t yet met his soulmate and they certainly wouldn’t have known they were being ridiculed. It had been absurdly illogical to ‘protect’ a person who couldn’t be affected by the derision of  _ children _ or adults that would very likely be long dead or out of his life by the time he met them and realized who they were to him. And yet he’d zealously guarded his soulmark for years, even from his own sensei.

His teammates had seen it once or twice during missions. Tsunade had been relieved and Orochimaru suspected she'd worried that he might not have a soulmate. Jiraiya had been baffled because, in his words, 'You're such a snippy bastard, I can't see anyone giving you a pet name.' Which was fair enough. Orochimaru didn't cultivate a warm and welcoming attitude.

He trailed a fingertip over the black strokes, a smile curling up the corners of his mouth. His soulmate had held his peace for years of their acquaintance but always viewed Orochimaru as-

"Lovely?"

The echo of the kanji under his fingertip made him smile wider and he turned his head, holding out his hand to the man in the doorway. "You're home early."

Sakumo padded over on silent feet to take the hand, lifting it to his lips. "The trouble we expected didn't happen."

The kiss brushing over the back of his hand made a content warmth spread through Orochimaru's chest. "Good. Welcome home wolf-heart."

"It's good to be home." Sakumo bent and brushed a kiss against the smiling mouth of his mate. "What were you thinking of that had you smiling like that?"

"You, us, my soulmark." He turned to face Sakumo more fully. 

Deep gray eyes grew warm, softening further and Sakumo brought Orochimaru’s marked wrist to his lips, kissing it. “It’s still true. You are, and always have been, lovely. It’s simply my good luck that no one else bothered looking past their noses to see you as you actually are.”

Orochimaru smiled again, this one deeper and full of the affection he felt for his mate. He buried the fingers of his free hand in Sakumo’s hair, nimbly freeing it from the tie so he could play with the fascinatingly fluffy length. “Continue saying things like that and you’ll find yourself in bed before you can wash away your mission.”

Sakumo’s grin was wild as he leaned in to nuzzle his nose against his mate’s, his hair brushing against porcelain skin in wild, flyaway layers. “That’s not a way to discourage me from praising you, Lovely.”

Orochimaru chuckled. “It wasn’t meant to be, wolf-heart.” He pulled his mate in for another kiss before he made good on his ‘threat’.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is because of Kalira, in many, many ways.   
A little shorter than I was planning on but trying to make it longer just ruined the mood.


	13. MadaTobi - wings appear the first time you meet your soulmate's eyes

The wailing from the Hokage’s office was reaching an inhuman pitch that even those long inured to Hashirama’s dramatics couldn’t ignore. Tobirama made an irritated huff and stood from his desk, flicking a glance at the empty desk near the window across the office. That was a clue as to just who Hashirama was likely wailing at. Another clue was the churning sea of boiling hot chakra Tobirama could feel down the hall. Which meant dealing with Uchiha Madara’s temper before lunch.

It had taken two years of working together as they tried to ensure the village wouldn’t fail, and that Hashirama’s childish optimism and inability to concentrate on paperwork wouldn’t sink them before they’d barely begun, but Tobirama had reached something of a truce with his brother’s childhood friend. It was difficult to continue disliking Madara even among their fairly explosive arguments when he’d come to see the difference between genuine rage and prideful blustering or simple irritation from him.

It was also difficult to dislike a man who allowed his falcons and hawks to fly in the window and play with his mane of hair at any hour. There was something ridiculously endearing about the sight of Madara sitting at his desk with a bird of prey on either shoulder, running beaks through the tangled mass of wild black, making content little chirps, while he steadily knocked down his paperwork.

In fact, Tobirama would even go as far as to say he’d grown...fond of Madara. Not that he intended to tell anyone that. Especially since, as he drew closer to his brother’s office he could hear Madara’s voice snarling at the top of the man’s impressive lungs.

“As if we just put people into genjutsu at the drop of a hat! STOP CRYING YOU BARKBRAINED MORON! IT ISN’T YOUR CLAN BEING AFFECTED!”

The snap made Hashirama’s wailing increase in pitch once more and Tobirama pinched the bridge of his nose as it made several of the ninken and Hatake wolves that were in the tower howl in reaction.

He didn’t bother to knock, just shoved the door open and stepped into the office. A neat twist and shift of his body allowed him to avoid the leaping grab his brother made for him.

“Tobiiiiiiii~! It’s awful! Ow!” Hashirama’s face met the doorframe and he dropped to the floor in a mess of robes and ruffled brown feathers, his soul wings askew, rubbing his nose. Big, wounded eyes looked up at Tobirama, Hashirama’s lip sticking out in a ridiculous pout. “Why’d you do that? You’re so mean, otouto.”

Tobirama gave his brother an arch look. “I did that because I have no interest in having you cling to me for the hour or more it will take to settle whatever it is that has you wailing like a yonaki ishi.” He didn’t yet look over at Madara, though he could still feel the churning, flaring spikes in his chakra that spoke of true anger. “Now, what is going on?”

Hashirama slumped a little. “It’s the Hyuga Head.”

“Arrogant bastard.” Madara growled from where he stood beside Hashirama’s desk.

Tobirama sighed and rubbed the spot between his eyebrows. “Of course it is.” The head of the Hyuga Clan seemed to be determined to alienate everyone he encountered. “What has Otoshi done this time?”

Hashirama actually cringed, his wings drawing in close around him as if in protection. 

Genuine concern gripped Tobirama and he shifted his gaze to Madara, the words the man had yelled made it clear that this was something aimed at the Uchiha clan. As always his eyes settled at the point between Madara’s brows, a long ingrained habit. Tobirama never looked anyone in the eyes, years of war making the prospect of finding his soulmate in a rival clan a real and dangerous possibility. 

It seemed to irritate Madara but, after an initial puffing up, he didn’t explode. “That bastard had the  _ gall _ to submit a proposal restricting village residents from meeting an Uchiha’s eyes.”

Tobirama understood the implications  _ immediately _ . Both the implication Otoshi had made that the Uchiha clan would use their Sharingan against others in the village  _ and _ the blatant attempt to prevent members of the Uchiha clan from finding their soulmates. 

His eyes dropped to the papers crumpled in Madara’s fist and he stepped forward to ease them out of the furious grip. He stayed close enough that he registered Madara’s body heat in the back of his mind but his focus was on reading the proposal. He felt a muscle in his jaw begin to tick as he reviewed the thinly veiled insults in the document.

Hashirama’s eyes popped so wide they were in danger of rolling out of his head at the fury he could see settling on his little brother. It was subtle, as most of Tobirama’s tells were, but the tensing jaw, the stiffer set of shoulders, and the way one hand released the proposal to free it to use a hand sign or weapon were, to those who knew Tobirama well, signals loud as any siren.

Tobirama finished reading and rolled the sheaf of papers into a narrow tube. He tapped it rhythmically against an open palm, his eyes narrowed on nothing in particular. “Hm. I believe this is a serious enough subject to warrant a meeting of all the village representatives.”

Hashirama made a strangled sound in the back of his throat. “All?”

A slow, positively  _ cruel _ smile turned the corners of Tobirama’s lips up and made his brother whimper. “ _ All _ . Including the representative of those individual families and shinobi who are not part of a clan, the civilian representative,” the smile grew sharper, “and Mito.”

He felt Madara’s curious glance, the settling of the hot chakra beside him and it settled his own anger slightly. He began walking out of the office. “I will go prepare the large conference room for a meeting at the end of office hours. Do not slack on your paperwork, Anija. I want your focus on the meeting.”

He slid the door closed behind him, mind already on exactly how to deal with this little power play of Otoshi’s.

Hashirama made a soft whimper. “Push that stack over here, Madara. Tobi  _ means _ it and he’s already royally pissed off.”

Madara tilted his head, shoving the stack of paperwork as high as his arm over to Hashirama. “Is he?”

Hashirama pulled the first document down and snorted lightly. “Two years working in the same office and you haven’t picked up on his tells yet?”

“Shut it loghead. I  _ know _ he’s angry but you’re actually doing your work. That says you’re scared of his reaction.” Madara moved to the couch and sat, crossing his arms in a huff.

“I am. Oh, I am. My little brother is adorable and sweet,” Hashirama applied ink to his hanko and stamped the first document, ignoring Madara’s skeptical scoff, “and  _ terrifying _ when he’s pissed off enough. I am not putting my neck on the execution block with him as angry as he is now. Look at the thermometer.”

Madara turned his head to look at the window and the colorful foreign thermometer that had been sent as a diplomatic gift to Hashirama. It was a glass tube filled with water and some other vessels within filled with colorful liquid called a Galilean Thermometer, and right now all the smaller vessels were floating at the top near a small bubble of air and the water had a thin film of ice on the top. His brows lifted because it wasn’t cold in the least in the room. “He did that?”

“When Tobi is seriously pissed off, the kind of pissed off that usually results in blood or a diplomatic incident, his chakra reacts and so does the water in range of him. He doesn’t get  _ this _ angry often but when he does...” Hashirama set the signed paperwork aside and met his friend’s eyes. “When Tobirama is as angry as he is now, I wouldn’t dream of fighting him because I would  _ lose _ and so would you. There is a  _ reason _ my father called Tobira his favorite weapon, Madara.”

“Your father was a cruel fuckhead, Hashi.” Madara had heard tales of Butsuma’s cruelty from several sources among the Senju by now and it had given him a better understanding of Tobirama’s eternal composure and brief flashfire spurts of temper.

“Exactly. So imagine what would make someone a cruel fuckhead’s favorite weapon,” Hashirama said pointedly as he bent his head to his work again. “Day to day, Tobirama is strong and  _ cautious _ . Day to day, my brother weighs and measures his options and how to apply what force where, calculating how much would be too much. When he’s angry that caution and calculation start fading. The angrier he is, the less he  _ thinks _ about the appropriate reaction and force. The last time he was this angry? The Senju lost the contract with the Kaze daimyo because he pissed Tobirama off to the point that my brother slapped him and decapitated his personal guards.”

Madara remembered the Uchiha getting that contract, remembered the Kaze palace concubines whispering about a terrifying white beast off its leash, and remembered Izuna offering to hunt down whatever beast troubled them only to receive horrified gasps and panicked refusal for fear of reprisal. It was difficult to match the image he had of Tobirama up with the concept of a feral beast. At the same time he heard what Hashirama was saying and  _ not _ saying. “But you aren’t worried this will undermine the village if he’s so angry?”

“No. Because he’s angry at Otoshi and  _ just _ Otoshi. And because he’s not so angry he’s lost  _ all _ his caution. That’s only happened twice.” Hashirama shuddered and stamped another paper.

Madara in, elbows braced on his thighs, curious now. “Oh?”

Hashirama paused and looked back up briefly. “Do you remember the missing children just before the battle where Tobi spared Izuna’s life?”

Madara’s shoulders tensed. He remembered that  _ very _ well. Three Uchiha children had been kidnapped by bloodline hunters and he’d been losing his mind trying to track them down, to save the children. Those days of searching were burned into his memory as he’d not once deactivated his Sharingan. “You sent a message to me saying you’d found Kagami, Akito, and Ami and would be waiting with them at the river.” He frowned, bringing the exact wording back to mind. “No, you said a Senju had found the children. Tobirama?”

Hashirama nodded. “And do you remember what was found at the bloodline thieves’ compound?”

Dark eyes widened. There hadn’t  _ been _ much of a compound left in truth, houses in shambles and a single, shaky guard wall left standing. Within the ring of fallen fortress walls had been pure carnage. Blood in such quantity that the ground itself had been a dark brownish red wherever you stepped. The numerous corpses had been in pieces. And not just two. No, every dead body had been in a minimum of four or more pieces and there had been no way to even guess at which part belonged to which.

The memory was gruesome but even then, among the savage destruction, Madara could only feel a grim satisfaction and  _ appreciation _ for whoever had wiped them out. Learning it had been Tobirama and long before peace between the Senju and Uchiha stirred something warm and sweet in his chest that he wasn’t ready to examine. But it also brought up a question, “How the fuck did he do all that?”

“I’d tell you to ask him but he’d just shrug it off. I only found him once it was over and he was carrying the children out of that place. You might ask Kagami-kun, I think he was the only one of the children that was conscious when I found them.” Hashirama stamped the next document a touch harder than absolutely necessary. He was just as protective of children as his brother after all, if less feral about it. 

Knowing that Kagami had witnessed Tobirama destroying the bloodline hunters added an entirely new layer onto Kagami’s hero worship of Tobirama. “I might just do that. What was the other time?”

Hashirama sighed, heavy with grief, his soul wings drooping, and leaned his head back, looking up at the ceiling. “Who first among your clan called my brother The White Demon, Madara?”

Now Madara’s attention was firmly fixed on Hashirama and he straightened from his lean, searching his memory. He’d been young but he’d paid attention to anything to do with the Senju clan, worried for his first outclan friend’s family. “Yashiro.” The Elder had come back from a mission with devastating wounds that prevented him from returning to active duty, restricting him to the Uchiha compound.

“And what missions did Uchiha Yashiro specialize in when he was active?” There was a note of strain in Hashirama’s voice.

It hit Madara like a slap in the face and he sucked in a sharp breath. “He captained Father’s child-killing squad. He’s the only...”

“The only surviving member,” Hashirama finished the sentence. “Because the rest of his squad fell to Tobirama the night Itama was killed.” He kept his gaze fixed on the ceiling, not really seeing it, memories of Tobirama, covered in enemy blood and carrying Itama’s body home, playing in his mind’s eye instead.

Nausea churned in the back of Madara’s throat. “You never brought it up. Not even in the negotiations. Not even when my grandmother demanded Madoka’s head.” The old woman had been less than pleased to learn Senju Madoka was eight years dead and thus she could not carve payment for the deaths of her grandchildren out of his hide.

“What good would it have done? Even Tobirama agreed that demanding blood for past losses would only create cracks in the foundation of our peace and I promise you, Madara, accepting that cost him.” Hashirama ran a hand down his face then shook himself free of the past to get back to work. 

Madara could well imagine it had cost Tobirama, that it  _ still _ cost him to know the killer of his youngest brother lived comfortably and safely within the walls of the village that was as much a product of Tobirama’s mind and effort as it was Hashirama and Madara’s dreams. And with Tobirama’s skill at sensing, Madara didn’t doubt that he regularly felt Yashiro’s chakra unfettered among the village.

He couldn’t help but admire the sort of internal strength it took for Tobirama to allow Yashiro to continue living so it didn’t endanger the village. 

And Hyuga Otoshi was threatening that village stability by being an ass.

Madara smiled faintly and stood up. “I think I want to get my own work done so I can properly appreciate what your brother has up his sleeve.”

Hashirama made a soft sound of amusement and wiggled his fingers in a wave. He didn’t know what Tobirama was going to do but he was  _ positive _ it was going to end in tears or blood.

\--------------------------------

Madara studied the layout of the conference room. Tobirama had clearly set the stage carefully. A semi circle of zabuton with Hashirama and Mito in the center of the arrangement close enough that their wings brushed with every faint shift and adjustment and deep breath. Madara’s own cushion was just behind and to the right of Hashirama and Tobirama stood, a thick stack of documents in his arms, by the door to hand a folder to each representative that entered the room along with a caution to wait to read the contents until everyone arrived.

To no one’s surprise, Hyuga Otoshi was the last to come in, five minutes late. It made Madara want to roll his eyes at the petty little attempt at a power play but he focused on Tobirama’s composed expression as he gestured Otoshi to the cushion set directly in front of Hashirama and Mito.

He was beginning to see some of the strategy. Of those in the room, only Hashirama, Mito, and Nara Shikari had soul wings. Shikari’s soulmate was away on a mission or Madara was certain Tobirama would have positioned her and her soulmate into perfect view. Hashirama and Mito were clearly the center of attention at the moment, their wings on perfect display. 

Hashirama’s deep brown eagle wings edged with the vibrant carmine taking up the space around him, his left wing arching behind Mito and her brown tipped red gull wings, mantling protectively. Mito’s wings were sleek and held in a position that any fool who knew the body language of wings would recognize as ready to snap her forward in a lethal strike. It was a powerful image and one Madara knew most wanted for themselves.

Everyone wanted to meet another’s eyes one day and have the semi-corporeal wings phase into existence. Everyone wanted to find their soul’s match, the one person who matched them in the most important ways. Soulbonds weren’t always romantic but when allowed to form the soulmates were always better, more stable, for it and  _ everyone _ wanted that.

Without saying a word, Tobirama was already reminding everyone in the room about that, about the value of soul connections and the beauty of the wings.

Madara settled more comfortably, already eager to see Tobirama destroy Otoshi.

“Thank you all for coming to the meeting on such short notice.” Tobirama’s voice was calm and neutral. He moved so that he stood behind his brother and Mito, visible from the sternum up by Otoshi. “I understand that you all have other matters to attend to among your responsibilities.” 

Madara’s lips twitched at the subtle implication that the ‘other matters’ were more important but this meeting was urgent enough to interrupt more important things.

“However, Hyuga-sama,” the faintest touch of ice edged into Tobirama’s voice and it brought even Shikari to attention, “submitted a proposal that I believe should be handled immediately in the most beneficial way possible.”

Red eyes locked on Otoshi, who was already looking a bit hunted. “Before everyone reads Hyuga-sama’s proposal, I would like to clarify a few things, if you will Hyuga-sama?” While the faint lift in pitch indicated a question, the steady, flat stare made it clear it was a demand that should not be refused.

“Ah, of course, Tobirama-sama. Whatever I can do to assist.”

“Thank you.” The polite smile sent a chill down most of the representative’s spines as they all recognized a predator playing nice. “To begin with, I would like to ask if members of your clan refrain from using their doujutsu while within the village?”

“Oh course we do! We would never use the Byakugan against our allies outside of training.” Otoshi straightened his shoulders, puffing up in slight insult.

“No one ever slips?” A slim white brow lifted.

“Ah...well occasionally accidents do happen during moments of heavy emotion but all that happens at those times is seeing through walls or a quick glimpse of a chakra network. All the members of my clan immediately shut their ability down when they realize they’ve slipped.”

Tobirama nodded. “I thought as much but wanted to ensure that was the case.” 

Madara hid his smirk of wicked glee. Tobirama had just effectively murdered any complaint Otoshi might make about Sharingan accidents.

“So there is no reason to avoid eye contact with any Hyuga then?” Tobirama kept his expression polite but inside there was a vicious satisfaction at the way Otoshi paled as he realized the trap he’d stepped into. He couldn’t refuse to answer, not after agreeing to do so in front of every group representative in the village, but whatever answer he gave would only dig him in deeper.

You could see the Hyuga Head mentally scrambling for an answer that wouldn’t ruin him, and pinpoint the exact moment he thought he’d hit on one from the tiny, tiny smirk. “No more reason than whatever reason you, yourself, avoid eye contact with someone, Tobirama-sama.”

Madara’s eyes narrowed and he grit his teeth, wanting to lunge and wring the neck of the Hyuga bastard. He didn’t particularly like that the little fucker was trying to use Tobirama’s own reticence against him. He understood perfectly why Tobirama was still so leery of meeting anyone’s eyes, of finding his soulmate. Again the stories of Butsuma’s cruelties had more than given insight into why Tobirama might be wary of being vulnerable to someone with the power to hurt him on a deeper level than most ever could.

The only things keeping Madara from taking that lunge were the way the corners of Hashirama’s eyes tightened in concealed anger, the way Mito lazily fanned herself with a folding fan he knew concealed poison darts, and his personal refusal to ruin the trap Tobirama had carefully set up.

The polite smile remained in place but everyone paying attention in the room caught the danger in red eyes that shifted minutely to meet pearly lavender. “Habit then. Years of habit can be quite difficult to break.” Tobirama held the stare until the arrogant smirk on Otoshi’s lips vanished.

He riffled through the papers he held. “As I understand it several Hyuga have found their soulmates of late, have they not? Including your daughter. Hitomi-san.”

“Yes.” Pride edged out the wariness in Otoshi’s voice. “It has been a marvelous bout of good fortune.”

“Then the Hyuga value soulmate bonds as well?” Tobirama asked mildly.

“I know of no one who does not! Finding one’s soulmate is the greatest gift one could dream of!”

“Really?” Tobirama lifted one slim brow, prodding at a core value just enough that it would give the man enough rope to hang himself.

“Yes! I, and my entire clan, all wish for nothing more than to find our soulmates!”

“Then I must profess confusion as to the purpose of your proposal. If the Hyuga value soulmates, why would you create a proposal that would bar an entire clan in the village from finding their own soulmates?” Tobirama didn’t look around at the others in the room as the sound of folders being opened and the proposal being read filled the room. He kept his eyes locked on Otoshi and allowed just a touch of a savage anger over the asinine proposal to show.

Madara watched Otoshi conceal a cringe and didn’t bother to hide the sharp grin that was beginning to take over his face. 

“I-I did not propose to prevent that. The Sharingan-”

“Is a doujutsu. Just as the Byakugan is.”

“The Byakugan can not create genjutsu!” Otoshi blustered.

“No, that is true. However, the Sharingan only casts genjutsu when the wielder does so deliberately. Are you claiming that the Uchiha Clan would willfully assault others in the village? The village they helped found?”

“Sure as hell looks like that’s what this bullshit proposal is saying to me.” Inuzuka Koga drawled, fanning himself with said proposal. “With the added bonus of hindering the discovery of soul connections.”

“It would affect everyone in the village.” Yamanaka Inoue narrowed eyes on Otoshi. “Just what are you playing at Otoshi?”

“I..I was only concerned-”

“With grabbing a little power over the Uchiha.” Shikari drawled, yawning. “What a pain. It’s obvious what you were after, quit trying to talk your way out of it. The proposal is shit not worth the washi it’s written on. I think we can all agree on that.”

Every representative in the room but Otoshi was very loud in their agreement. 

“I vote we let Uchiha-sama burn it and forget it was ever suggested.” Akamichi Chouka added.

The resounding agreement, made Madara grin wider as all the folders were tossed onto the floor one after the other as the meeting came to an abrupt end, Hashirama cheerfully encouraging the rest of them out with an invitation to go for a drink.

Madara stayed where he was as the room emptied, leaving him, Tobirama, and Otoshi behind.

Silence rang and stretched for a long minute, Otoshi watching Tobirama like a rabbit watches a hungry fox from where he remained sitting.

Then Tobirama stepped forward, the original proposal in one hand, and when he spoke every iota of anger came out like a frozen waterfall just beginning to crack under the force of meltwater. “Never again attempt something like this, Otoshi. If you do, I will not be so kind as to handle it with an official meeting. The next time, your daughter will be assuming the position of Clan Head early.”

Otoshi scrambled to his feet, backing away. “You wouldn’t dare-”

“To prevent you from subverting the village? I would more than  _ dare _ , Otoshi. Attempt it again and I will kill you and will do so in a way that appears you died of natural causes. Do. Not. Test. Me.” 

Madara felt his face flush at the lethal rage in Tobirama’s voice and the way chakra filled with killing intent filled the room. He hid the flush as best he could behind his hair and was grateful for his long tunic as his body suddenly made a very emphatic statement that Tobirama showcasing just how dangerous he could be was sexy. 

It was a sudden, very unwelcome epiphany as to the nature of the warmth in his chest thinking of Tobirama earlier, as well as his appreciation for the destruction of the bloodline thieves. This was  _ not _ the time or place for the Uchiha propensity for dangerous people to rear its inappropriate little head.

Tobirama advanced another step and it sent Otoshi running, looking paler than the man terrifying him. Tobirama looked down at the document he still held, eyes scanning the words again. A small smile that could only be called evil delight curved his lips and he stepped up to the pile just in front of Madara, bending over to gather them up. “Will you be burning them?”

“Absolutely.” Madara stood as Tobirama straightened. “As much as I enjoyed watching you wreck Otoshi, I want to burn  _ something _ still.”

“Unsurprising.” Tobirama passed the pile of documents to Madara and fell into step beside him as they exited the conference room.

Madara could feel the roiling sea of Tobirama’s chakra calming as they walked, felt the man settling himself. “Hashirama told me you were the one who took out the bastards who kidnapped the kids before we ended the fighting.”

“Ah. Do you have a question about that?” 

Something in Tobirama’s tone, an extra formality warned Madara to take care with how he answered. “I’m curious as hell about how you managed it but no real questions. I can’t be anything but grateful you found the children and saved them before it was too late. And if you think I’d do anything but offer to buy you a drink for taking those scum out, you’re not as smart as you think you are.” He caught a faint twitch of amusement on Tobirama’s face.

“Perhaps I might tell you one day.” Tobirama checked in a few rooms as they walked through the tower, making certain all the lights were doused.

“Tease.” He drawled it solely to see Tobirama’s reaction and when it got a soft chuckle, Madara’s heart flipped in his chest and his brain to mouth filter failed. “Is it habit?”

Tobirama flicked a glance at him, gaze landing on Madara’s jaw. “What?”

Since he’d already said it and knew there was no way of back peddling with Tobirama. Once you said something that got his attention you couldn’t get out of the conversation. “The gaze aversion. Is it habit or ingrained caution?”

Tobirama paused mid step, turned to face Madara, and tilted his head, considering. His sight landed on Madara’s chin and mouth, faintly angled up thanks to their height difference. He couldn’t deny that it was a very comely mouth and oddly delicate chin for the Uchiha’s pugnacious personality but he avoided those thoughts as a matter of course. “I suppose it is a matter of both. Not caution against the Sharingan you understand.”

Madara just nodded. “Not like any of us could do anything to you anyway. How many times did you send Izuna into a fit over breaking a genjutsu attempt?”

That wicked smile came back. “Now Madara, would I have kept a tally?”

He laughed, tossing his head back. “You damn well would, yes. Hashirama’s more obvious about it but you’re just as big a troll as he is.”

“Quite a statement coming from the man who single handedly convinced the daimyo’s entire court that they had to remove only their left shoe to show respect to the Uchiha patron goddess within any Uchiha’s home.” 

Madara grinned broadly. “They still believe it too. So? How many times?”

“Why should I tell you?” Tobirama’s smile turned quiet as he started walking again, Madara quickly falling back into step beside him after a quick sputter and flail. He bickered softly with the other man as they left the Tower and made their way to the side by side compounds Hashirama and Madara had somehow managed to talk their clans into. A ‘pure display of peace and solidarity’ in Hashirama’s words.

Tobirama had always thought it was Madara’s way of rubbing the fact that he’d been right into the more stubborn Uchiha warhawks faces. It also, he had to admit, was Madara’s way to keep an eye on his best friend and be there in case he needed help. It was a sentiment Tobirama appreciated and could agree with. Madara wasn’t loyal to an ideal the way Hashirama was. His loyalty belonged to those he held in his heart, a limited few but Madara would do anything and everything for those few no matter how uncomfortable he was. A commonality Tobirama shared.

That reminded Tobirama of the slight tension that gripped Madara for a moment every time he didn’t meet the other man’s eyes. It was a tension that Tobirama didn’t like to see, not anymore. He knew from the earlier question that Madara would never demand or expect him to meet his eyes. Knew that he would allow Tobirama to continue his gaze avoidance without complaint but Tobirama felt his gut clench at the idea that his refusal to meet Madara’s eyes might insult or even hurt the other man.

It was insulting after all, implied distrust even after forming their personal truce and building a friendship of sorts. What was more it smacked of hypocrisy for Tobirama to eviscerate Otoshi for his proposal yet still avoid Madara’s eyes.

That stirred Tobirama to catch Madara’s arm with a murmur of his name. He swallowed, nerves he absolutely  _ hated _ to feel making his throat thick, and slowly slid his gaze up from Madara’s chin and mouth, up the ridiculously well shaped nose, until he was looking into the dark eyes.

A frisson of  _ something _ moved through him but Tobirama was too preoccupied by the sudden movement just behind Madara and the sight of black wings with red and white speckles coming into existence. A breathy, “Oh,” was all he could manage.

Madara was a tad more eloquent. “Holy shit. We’re soulmates.” He ignored his inner obsessed Uchiha doing a dance routine in his chest in favor of looking at Tobirama’s wings. Sleek, white with red stripes that echoed the seal marks and flecks of black, he recognized the shape as that of a peregrine, appropriate for the fastest shinobi in the world.

“So it appears. I was not expecting that.” Tobirama felt a bit staggered, old memories of his father denying that he had a soul at all flicking through his head. 

“Obviously but I can’t say I’m disappointed.” Madara shifted the bundle of papers under one arm and met Tobirama’s eyes again, a slight smirk on his lips. 

“Are you not?” Tobirama blinked, readjusting his expectations faintly at the way Madara’s eyes swept up and down his body. 

“Nope. Definitely not.”

“I see.” The set of Tobirama’s shoulders eased and interest kindled in his chest. He could recognize appreciation in another’s gaze well enough and Madara was a very appealing specimen of humanity. “Then would you be amenable to discussing matters over a meal tomorrow evening?”

Madara had to admit, privately, that the way Tobirama fell back on longer words and more formal speech when he was unsure of his step was adorable. “Yes, I want to have dinner with you, Tobirama. Tomorrow works, tonight would work better.”

Tobirama almost agreed but then he wrinkled his nose faintly. “I have evening training with the clan children and I can not postpone it.”

“Ah, well, at least I’m not being spurned for  _ Hashirama _ .” Madara caught Tobirama’s grimace and in the next instant knew why he’d made that expression. “By Amaterasu’s robe he’ll see the wings. He’ll blubber and refuse to let either of us go from his bear hugs of death.”

Tobirama ran a hand over his face. “Yes. Anija will do precisely that.”

“I could approve us for an emergency mission, I’m sure there’s something in Yuki no Kuni we should investigate.” 

A soft laugh escaped Tobirama. “Only delaying the inevitable. Best to get the initial madness out of the way early.”

“I don’t know, I could not come in to work tomorrow, hide away in the Naka Shrine may-” he cut himself off at at long, deadly stare that Tobirama gave him. “You’d murder me.”

“I was considering temporary maiming actually. You are no good to me dead.”

“....is now a good time to mention that Uchiha have something of a...” Madara trailed off, looking for the least embarrassing term.

“Danger kink?” Tobirama’s hand dropped and he smirked. “Do recall that I have borne witness to your brother’s attempts at wooing Touka. I am well acquainted with the Uchiha penchant for strength and lethality.”

“Oh. Well. Good. Then it probably won’t surprise you to know that I want to kiss your brains out, right now.”

The smirk grew. “That is a significant amount of gray matter and I am afraid neither of us really has the time for you to give the endeavor a proper effort. I will let you try after dinner tomorrow.”

He turned to start down the lane to the Senju district then paused to look over his shoulder and a wing at Madara. “My colors look good in your wings. Enjoy burning Otoshi’s stupidity.” Then he used his hiraishin to vanish.

Madara just stared at the empty space for a long moment before groaning and looking down at himself. “I’m going to need a long shower tonight.”

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Let's Make Music Together](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24332836) by [trulywicked](https://archiveofourown.org/users/trulywicked/pseuds/trulywicked)


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